Where am I?

This is basically a copy/paste of what I posted on my stitching blog to let stitchy friends know where I've been. However, this post is more "on topic" in this blog. I feel bad (Lazy etc) just copying it here, but I know that some of the readers of this blog do not read my stitching blog (which is perfectly fine). And since this is where I should write about pain and depression..well anywhoo..here it is. I could ramble a whole lot more, but this is long enough as it is. I will try to ramble some more tomorrow.

Well, to let everyone know, I am still alive and around. I know it's been close to (if not already past [too lazy to check right now, ok I checked it was Feb. 2013]) a year 8 months since I posted here, longer than that since I posted with any regularity. I haven't been stitching much at all. I put a few stitches (total of maybe 50 stitches all told) in a couple of my WIP's here and there, but nothing major at all. *Pictures people making a a cross with their hands and yelling at her: "No stitching?!?! Sacrilege! Back you floss deserter, back you project abuser, back I say!" [raven giggles at herself]* See? I have lost my mind I tell you!

Another odd image: 2 rather official looking ladies at my front door dressed in black suits, complete with sunglasses (think Men In Black, only women in the suits rather than men) and ID wallets. Their badges have the symbol for cross-stitch of a hoop with fabric and a needle parked in said fabric. The words surrounding them are "International Needlework Association: Cross-stitch Div.: Project Protection Agent". They hand me a court order allowing them to confiscate my stash, WIPs, UFOs, and even my Ghingers for their own protection from my abusive neglect. "Now Mrs. Shadowborne if you would please surrender your Needlework ID, Scissors License and Precious Metals Needle Approval Cards. Yes than, very well.  Thank you very much and have a lovely day!" (trust me, it seemed much funnier in my head...oh well never said I was good at comedic writing  LOL)

I signed up for an exchange (due back in February) in the hopes it would help me regain my stitching bug. I have stitched on it. It sits three-quarters completed (would still need put together etc) in my stitching bag (along with 5 other WIPs) and I just can't find the energy to finish it. It is so late and I feel so horrible about it. I have told my partner and she is being so wonderful and understanding about it. My brain however uses it to beat me up. Why does depression have to include mental self-flagellation via self-insults and loads and loads and loads of guilt? It doesn't help, just makes it worse.

What happened? Depression is what happened.

The truth is: I just haven't been able to drum up the desire to stitch, or when I had a tiny inkling of desire, I couldn't drum up the energy to actually do it. My depression finally hit the really bad stages where even the sadness and despair go away, leaving nothing behind....emptiness.

Those woods I posted about a while back, I got lost again I stayed lost and couldn't find my way out. I knew my depression was bad, but I didn't realize it could get even worse, but it did.  I'm not sure that I have found a way out yet, but I am at least forcing myself to try to resume activities I know I used to enjoy doing. But it is so hard to fight back when I can't really do anything but sit in bed all the time. The pain has been insane, and pain like that really does mess up the chemical balance of the brain and nervous system.  In some ways the depression and it's accompanying dissociation is comforting because it removes a lot of emotions, thus I don't feel guilt, emotional pain etc. Instead I just feel empty, vast sweeping blackness..nothing at all. I've had a day here and there where I did have some feelings, but not often, not for long, and not real good feelings/thoughts. Though, there is one ray of sunshine finally: those days with some emotion have been increasing in frequency so that's good. I know that in order to feel better, I have to allow myself to feel at all. Of course the first feelings will include all the guilt, anger, frustration, fear etc. that I have been hiding from and the idea of feeling those things in order to move through them is extremely daunting.

I have days where some feelings are coming back, and when they do I am struggling to let them, to not shove them back down. It is terrifying. Part of me truly wants to stay in the woods, the deepest darkest part where there were no real emotions more often than not. My last post, I tried to end on an improved note. I *did* go stitch (about 15 stitches before giving up) that day though.

Thank you to all those who left me such wonderful comments! I read them all, obsessively more than once because they give me a warm & good feeling inside which is better than the empty nothing I had 99% of the time. I fully intended to reply to each one via email and when I realized a few weeks had gone by I just didn't know what to do. Reply so late? Let it go without telling them what their words mean to you? The self talk turned into how horrible I am, useless, etc etc., and I became afraid of the response I'd get if I replied after such a long time. I felt I would deserve it whether it be an angry/upset/disappointed/whatever response to my reply or no response at all. So, as with everything else for the last few years, I did nothing and just used them as more ammunition for those times when my brain played "beat up the birdie girl!". I truly am sorry for not responding to those comments before now and I appreciate them a great deal, thank you thank you thank you!

I am not posting any of this to make people feel bad for me or anything like that. I am posting it (terrified but going to do it anyway even if it means I have to ask DH to click the publish button) for a few different reasons. One to explain where I've been. Two, to release some of my feelings in hopes my doing so may do some good for someone else. There are other reasons as well, but I think I've rambled quite too much about my depression in what is supposed to be my stitching blog. If you've read this far, Thank You and give yourself a pat on the back, Well Done! (and no I do not mean that sarcastically). I appreciate it :)

Depression (Severe) SUCKS!

Ok this is my 9th attempted post that has been sitting in the drafts folder for a while. It has taken me 2 weeks to write this one as it is. "OK .......here goes...click publish Raven! click it!"

New Poems

I'm not sure how good this is, but I got bit by the need to write about 10 minutes ago (it is 9:01 AM, 1/22/13). So I opened a word document and started. After a bit of tweaking this is what came out. I am very pleased because this is how I used to write. Get that feeling of "needing" to write, right now..no waiting. Grab paper and a pen/pencil/whatever and just let the words come. When I had written enough for that feeling to go away I would then look over what I wrote and edit things. Sometimes it was an essay that came out, other times a poem (or multiple poems)..they just tended to pop into my head all ready to go, all I had to do was write them down. I doubt I follow any "rules" of poetry, but that doesn't seem to be the point. The point seems to be to try and put my emotions into prose as accurately as I can. 

I've been struggling for the last 12 years to be able to write the way I used to. It is finally starting to come back. That status I posted the other day about pain taking bites out of those who suffer from it, was written because the need popped up. I've had the need pop up more in the last couple weeks than it had in the last 12 years. Anyway, this isn't perfect but I do like it, so I thought I'd share it. This came about because I have been asked how/why I would willingly allow apathy and depression to take over, why I would give up and just dissociate. This seems to be how my mind wants to answer those questions for right now. Another thought that keeps popping up is that, in part, it is a rest period. A time for me to just stop fighting and allow my batteries to recharge, so to speak. It takes a great deal of energy and effort, conscious effort (both mental and emotional), to push through the pain and try to live some semblance of a life. It takes a lot more effort than many people realize, want to believe, or even consider. Sadly only those who also live with constant pain/illness seem to truly understand it fully. So I'm guessing that this poem/prose/whatever you want to call it, is an attempt to help people understand, or to at least help them try to understand. 

Darkness Brings Relief

Author: M. Hull (Jan. 22, 2013)

Into the darkness my heart has fallen

                Feelings forgotten

                                body ignored

Nothing penetrates the blackness surrounding

                floating lost in the void

Neither emotional nor physical pain can reach

                deep into the darkness

                Inky depths that protect so sweet

Apathy wraps gentle wings about me

     pulling me in with whispers of peaceful serenity

                promises of relief

Snuggling in deeply

                an escape desperately sought

                a coldness quickly wrought

                yet the heart and soul care not

For the darkness  

brings relief to a desperate soul

Immune to the cold which surrounds me

Chilling self and those around me

Creating an icy boundary

few dare to cross

Leaving me to comfortably wallow

                free floating

                at peace

Deep within the darkness

 the darkness which brings relief

Ignorant of the blackness about me

Unaware of life’s buzz without me

Floating in quiet solitude

Dissociated from the world

mind and soul freed from the hell

the hell of my own flesh

With silken cords does the darkness bind me

                a willing captive

                a slave to darkness’s relief

END

Not too bad I don't think. I'm just glad to start having that need to write that has been apart of my life since I was a kid finally coming back. 

P.S.: To remmy and Sterling This one is for you two for helping me find a way to get my writing back. Thank you both so very much for your ideas, they really did make a major difference! and, as always For Ron, my soul mate and biggest supporter. Thank you for everything you've given to and done for me!

Below are a couple other poems/prose that came to me. This one is definitely not done, but when I got that far my mind jumped to a different direction/wording and I moved to that. It seems to have worked much better because that poem is pretty much complete, just needs a final edit, but I'm going to post it anyway.

Through trial and error

And life altering mistakes

I hoped, dreamed and prayed

That some day

Some day

I would find the one whom I sought

The one  completes me

Making me whole

As his love filled my soul

END

The second one, which popped up so fast and urgently that it overrode the

first one completely LOL It's not done, but I'm so sleepy I can't figure out

where it needs changed LOL

With each day I lived through

continuing to breathe

I tempted the fates

To deny what I need

Mistakes in my past

errors in judgment

Love which didn't last

as I wept silent tears

the holes in my heart and soul

ached and cried out

loneliness vast

Through bruises, tears, hurt and pain

through trials, errors, and things full of shame knocking me to my knees

again and again I fought on, seeking that one

Yet something within me refused to quit

I couldn't give ground, give up or give in

From the ashes I rose again

I fought on

Stronger than before

Determined to win

seeking that one

that could fulfill me from within

Then the day came that I opened my door

You stood on the stoop with a smile

Our eyes locked and our nerve endings

all at once ..cried out that w be together at once

As my heart filled with desire

My soul rose ever higher

        

A quick second or two

That lasted forever

As our hearts grew together

and our souls entwined

And I  knew at once, my dream

                was realized

Just a fleeting second in time

Every fiber of my being screamed together

letting me know you must..always...

             be mine

Despite obstacles barring our way

We held on until that fateful day

when at last, the two became one

As we lay together, limbs intertwined

Our souls touched each other

filling the holes in our hearts

With a love for all time

END

The Voracious Beast Of Pain

The worst part of living with chronic pain, is not the physical pain, nor the psychological pain that comes with it. It is the knowledge that every day a tiny piece of your heart and soul are devoured by the pain, never to return. Pain is hungry, never satisfied and over time it grows worse as whatever injury or illness causes the pain progresses and worsens. Each bite it swallows is a tiny bit larger than the last. Being eaten alive daily by a monster with a voracious appetite that can not be seen, touched, heard, felt, or smelled by others; only the sufferer's 5 senses are totally aware of it., While others walk away from, judge, ridicule, or (do) worse to their friend or loved one who now has a chronic illness or chronic pain condition, taking with them another little piece of the sufferer. With each negative word, each snide comment, they steal another small piece; never realizing the damage they are doing and have done. They can't. They can't put themselves in our shoes. Why not? It's quite simple, because to accept that a human being can continue to live day in and day out in extreme pain every day is absolutely terrifying; if it can happen to their friend/loved on then it can happen to them. Things that terrify people are things the people chose to actively (and some with great vigor) go out of their way to put down, minimize, marginalize and ignore. Why? Because it could be them. People despise what they fear, they always have and so they must vilify it; make it evil and wrong in the eyes of other people. As a result we are called malingerers, players, addicts, lazy, manipulators who just want to live off of other's, mentally disturbed and so much more. People are terrified of having their own frailty and mortality held in front of them like a mirror. No one wants to be reminded that their bodies will not always be strong and healthy, that they will grow old and weak and eventually die. To admit that this occurs, is to face the fear of not just death, but the terror that death is the end and there is nothing more. That their body is just as frail and prone to infection, injury or disease as the bodies' of the millions of chronically ill people and those who suffer with chronic pain every day. That they are not immune and it could be them one day. The fear is overwhelming and rather than face it and open their hearts and minds to the true compassion that does exist in every human (there is always a good to balance a bad; not everyone utilizes both sides of the self..usually just one or the other) being, they run from it and do everything they can to make it impossible within their own minds to even consider that a disabled/illl/suffering person did not bring it upon themselves; or they do their best to just ignore the disabled/ill/suffering person as a liar. For them, it is easier to live with the self-delusion than to open their hearts and minds to truly care for the sufferings of others. But I digress...

The pain, it is a insatiable beast, devouring pieces of it's victim every day. Taking away their strength, will to survive, and lastly hope for even a 1 minute respite.What happens when it is all gone, when the beast has eaten the last shred of hope? When the pain has finally eaten that last sliver we die, and we do so with thanks that the pain is finally over. This can be either a physical death, or a mental/emotional one where the sufferer's mind (totally overwhelmed and completely exhausted) gives up the fight and just leaves the body; leaving the sufferer comatose, catatonic, totally dissociating or pushes them to take their own life because nothing is left for them. Their hope is gone and only further suffering remains.

Before that point, we struggle; day in and day out to survive. Knowing that chronic pain has been scientifically proven to shorten the lifespan, shrink the size of one's brain, create secondary medical conditions (high blood pressure, heart issues, autonomic nervous system dysfunctions. etc) not to mention the damage of the meds we have to take just to be able to sit upright without screaming. We are not addicts. We are prisoners of our own bodies that are sick, or broken. Yet people need a scapegoat, someone to blame and it is (and always has been) easy for human beings to turn on the weakest, most vulnerable members of the group. After children, who are the most vulnerable members of a society? The sick, injured or disabled. Those who do not have the energy and mental strength to maintain the sustained and continuous battle that would be necessary to earn the respect we deserve just for being human beings.

Why is such a battle even needed? Don't we have enough fo a fight on our hands trying to make it through each day with a disabling illness or crippling pain?

How long can one survive this way? I do not know, but I do know this, when the time comes that my life ends, I will be thankful. No matter what awaits us after we die; be it new life, eternal life in heaven, or nothing at all (just wink out *pft* gone), the pain will be gone and peace will replace it (or just nothing, which still means no more pain, no nothing, gone..over).

Constant, never-ending pain, is a voraciously hungry, insatiable monster that eats its' victims a tiny bite at a time.

Many times I wonder, after so many years, how many bites are left in me?












I'm not sure....but I feel like I am down to just a few measly crumbs.

Poems From Pain

I wrote three poems the other night, one after the other. They're written on the back of envelopes because when the need to write them hit, it was extremely urgent and didn't want to wait until I found my poetry journal. I used to write a lot, but lost the desire during an abusive relationship in which I was ridiculed, yelled at, and physically "punished" for writing. Since then writing has become very difficult for me.

I realize I have been gone for a very long time from my blogs and I am sorry for that. I finally have some idea as to what happened with me and as my thoughts settle down, I will eventually write and describe what happened. I am sure I am not the only chronic pain patient who has reacted the way I did, specially those who have dealt with chronic pain for many many years.

Anyway, here are the three poems I wrote the night before last. These poems are copyrighted to me and can not be reprinted, re-posted, downloaded, or used in any manner by anyone else, without my consent.


The Bottomless Pit
© M. Hull Jan. 2, 2013

Lost in the depths of darkness
The bowels of despair
This bottomless pit...
How did I get here?

Stuck,at the bottom of a deep well
Looking up for any sign of light
  none to be seen

How did I get here?

                                                                                               
Praying, wishing, hoping to be saved
   prayers... unanswered
   wishes ...a fool's errand
   Hope...fades to nothing
   nothing left here
   a barren heart
   desiccated soul

As day after day..
   week after week
   month after month
   year after year
pain tears at my soul
    ripping it to shreds
   devours my heart
   destroys what little is left of me

still I wonder..
How did I get here?

I fought for years beyond counting
holding tight to hope
   ...all for nothing

Now here I sit, deep in this pit
   this pit of despair
   with pain my only company

How did I get here?

easy...
I got here through hours, days, weeks, months...years
   unending pain
   increasing disability
It took all I held dear away from me
all abilities...gone

until all that was left...

Is this pit of despair

END


Darkness of Despair
M. Hull © Jan. 2, 2013

I am lost
   blind
   deaf
   dumb
here in the dark

Pain is all I feel

Pain I fought for years
The fight in me is no more

                                                                                   
why bother?
  I can not win
   The pain always overwhelms me
   the dark always surrounds me
   until I am drowning
   the fight washed away


Blind
Deaf
Dumb

Nothing to see or hear
my cries for help go nowhere
   for there is no help, no succor, no healing
   this pain will never end

stuck forever... lost forever
drowning in the tears of pain
deep within the the darkness of despair
END


Grip Of Apathy
M. Hull © 2013

Cold fingers of apathy
reach out and grab me
pulling me down
   into the abyss

No struggle can beat this
no strength can break it's grip
try as hard as I can
..it always fails

falling
   falling
       falling

down
   down
       down
into the deepest darkest pit of despair

                                                                           
swallowed whole

Now I live there.

END


Basically what happened is pretty simple, and so dang common for those who live with constant pain or illness. With the Cymbalta came slightly lowered pain levels. This allowed me to begin to get an actual life back. A life where I could go to the store, go visit friends, go swimming, even go away for a weekend with my DH and have a blast. I was able to cook a few nights a week, do some cleaning every day. Pain crisises became rare as the medication removed the intensity, th sharpness of my pain. Yes I still hurt, but it wasn't as sharp or intense as without the Cymbalta. I got used to this , loved it and threw myself into it with great relief and happiness.

Then came a medication screw up thanks to insurance. So I had to go 2 weeks wihtout Cymbalta. As a result my blood level dropped and my pain went back to its usual 8-10 every day, with the same old sharpness and intensity (butcher knives stabbing the joints instead of a fist in a boxing glove..sharp pain instead of dull) and I ended up back in bed. It took 6 weeks to get the Cymbalta back up to proper blood level. But even then it was too late, I had lost my "new life" even though it was still at the beginning. This hurt soooooo much, to get some back and to lose it again.

I gave up. I no longer wanted to fight back. I was tired of the emotional hurt that comes with losing the new friends you made, losing the ability to do things, losing the lower pain levels etc. etc. So I stopped trying.

It took me until yesterday to figure out what was going on, and it didn't start bothering me until a couple weeks ago. Prior to that I was perfectly happy to be stuck in apathy and doing nothing. It is safer.

That's pretty much it. Hopefully I can write more in depth about it.