Masochist

I never thought I’d ever get pleasure out of pain, but…there I was.

Time and time again, chasing after men who either didn’t want to get caught, or men who claimed to love me, but constantly broke promises & tore my heart to shreds.

That would be me…always trying to hold onto that which harms.

Or trying to grasp that which simply dissipated through my fingers like smoke. Ghostly in its insubstantiality.

I must be a masochist.

I was constantly putting myself into a position of pain.

Well…no more.

I’m done.

I refuse to subject my emotional health, my heart, my self-esteem, into that position of self-flagellating hatred anymore.

I can’t do this, anymore.

So, I’m just done getting involved.

I am not going to participate in the game.

It hurts.

And, I really don’t like pain all that much.

Sure, I’d love to have someone come into my life who would be kind to me; someone who would be in a relationship with me. Something that had a hope for a future, at least.

But, survey says…that’s not happening.

So, I’m just not going to play the game at all.

It’s not worth it, anymore.

Not when I’m the one who has to pay the price of it in pain.

In the box you go…

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The Well is Deep, the Water is Cold

Oh, how I wish I could just plug this thing into my brain, sometimes, & let the words fall out to the screen. Typing them out seems to lose something in the translation.

I really want to go “stream of consciousness”…but I’m afraid I’d end up with the police at my door doing a “wellness check” in the middle of the night because of it.

Yeah, there are dark corners in my cranium that should probably remain unexplored.

And, around me, there sits a deep well of silence that keeps growing deeper and wider. The darkness wraps around me like a lover, only cold. Like the dead.

Fair weathers pop up every now and again, with platitudes & cliches…I smile tightly and nod my head once in acknowledgment of their words. It’s maybe well-meant, but they don’t get it. They have no clue what depression is, or they wouldn’t spit their *insert eye-roll* armchair opinions at me.

So, I retreat again, going back into my silence. Both at work and at home, only speaking when absolutely necessary, or to maintain the facade of reasonable health.

Fuck ’em, it’s none of their damned business.

They don’t really seem to care anyway.

Relagating them back to the “friendly acquaintance” circle.

Which is ok. They don’t have to be my friend. It’s not a requirement. And I don’t hold it against them.

But – there is a loss of privileges with the movement to a further circle.

A loss of trust and friendly intimacy. A definite loss of sharing.

They will be the ones who, when they ask “how are you?” Will get the reply “I’m fine”. End of.

Nothing more than surface.

And then…there’s the anomaly of this blog.

Sometimes I speak so raw & honestly here, my soul bleeds out onto the screen.

Other times, I’m so hitting the delete button time and time again, editing myself for fear of exposure.

And yet…the only one who really gets it, is so far away I’d have to hop a plane to get a hug.

Just to reiterate, for the nervous, I don’t want to die, nor would I ever commit suicide.

But, lately, and for a while now…I just want to lie down, fall asleep, and not wake up.

Maybe that’s why I spend so much time with my face buried in my Kindle, or in my gaming. I want to escape so hard from the reality that is my life, I’ll take the path of least resistance & throw myself down the rabbit hole.

I’m avoiding everything else so hard, I just can’t deal, right now. It hurts, like sandpaper on my skin.

Facing dead-end relationships, knowing there’s no hope, no future. An ex trying to contact me again, harassing me with “anonymous” phone calls & whiny emails. Stress and heartbreak, so I’m closing those doors & compartmentalizing that for some time later down the road. Or maybe never.

I haven’t decided yet.

And thise fair weathers? Those “friendly acquaintances”? I can tell that I’m not their friend, nor do they consider me such.

How?

I receive no phone calls, no texts, no visits – just for shits and giggles.

There are no invitations to anything. Unless it’s the odd birthday get-together at the bar after work, which I do sometimes try to go, but I don’t really drink, anymore, because of my medications, nor do I really enjoy it, anymore. I’m just kind of over the “bar bingo” thing. I certainly don’t get invited to join them when they all go out somewhere for lunch. Who wants to invite the woman who’s allergic to half the menu?

I don’t get included in, or asked to participate in, their little clique conversations.

Oh, I used to try. I’d initiate conversations, try to find things to discuss in common, try to arrange outings other than the bar…

And…it would dwindle as soon as I took my foot off the gas. As soon as I stopped attempting to fire up a friendship, the embers would drop to ash & go cold.

I used to let it get to me. It used to bother me quite a bit, and in fact… No, never fucking mind. You don’t get that reaction anymore.

Now, all I have, really, is apathy.

I just don’t fucking care.

About much of anything.

Except my Beloved Nephew, my kids, & my grandbabies.

And the only one that seems to truly need me, is my Beloved Nephew.

Eldestdaughter has her husband.

Youngerdaughter has her boyfriend.

And OnlySon has his father.

Speaking of… Did you know that a few weeks ago, OnlySon asked me to help him pick out good steaks for him to buy – for his father???

You know, because he just wanted to do something nice for his dad…

So, of course, for OnlySon’s sake, I helped him out.

And the selfish, asshole midget inside my brain whispered “And what about all the nice things I do for you, you ungrateful little wretch? When was the last time you did something nice for me…hmm? Oh…NEVER! THAT’S WHEN!”

Irrational anger, short temper, panic episodes, pounding heart, tight chest, shortness of breath, muscle tension, brain fog, lack of focus, general apathy, insomnia, nightmares, frequent migraines, lack of energy, bursts of severely emotional crying states, self-criticism, bouts of staring into space…at nothing, really, for long periods of time, lack of motivation, procrastination, easy tasks that become insurmountable simply because of the depression, severe anxiety, dread…over everything.

This is what lives inside me.

All. The. Time.

Not just right now.

Always.

Some days are better than others.

Some days are bad.

I’ve been having a lot of bad days.

But, I’m starting to feel fictionally inspired by some music I’ve been listening to.

So, there will be horror coming up.

Fictional horror, that is.

The real horror no one wants to deal with. Obviously, as evinced by my silent life.

Undertow

The tides of depression are insidious, sidling up next to you with a whisper and a forlorn look, only to sink hooks deep beneath your skin within seconds, and drag you out beyond your depths to your doom before you can cry for help.

Oh, the water looks calm and inviting, serene on the surface… while underneath churns a maelstrom of emotion. And yet, none of it shows.

No one sees it.

As I get dragged further and further out to sea.

Have You Tried The Bread?

I made some cinnamon streusel bread today, needing a little pick-me-up after the last few days of feeling like trash, between being sick and being in a depression.

I actually got a couple of household chores done today, as well, surprisingly, which means my energy is starting to come back, so this is a good thing.

I’ve kind of bottomed out now, though, which is not a shock. I know I need more rest to get well, I just hate this worn-out feeling. I really do.

Anyway, tonight, as I was getting ready to put the loaf of bread in a big ziploc… I suddenly heard in my head –

“Have you tried the bread? It’s good bread…”

In a voice I haven’t heard in years.

Ahhh, the voice of Ren. That infamous Asthma-hound chihuahua.

But, it was his voice as interpreted by one of my beloved Chosen Family. A “little brother” from my past, who loved Ren and Stimpy as much as I did.

And a pang went through my heart.

Because I don’t get to hear his voice anymore. He died a few years ago, taken by an inoperable cancerous brain tumor. He was smart, funny, fiercely protective of those he loved, and he was my friend, Shane.

And I fucking miss him.

And yes, Shane, I tried the bread.

It is good bread, dammit.

No Breath, but Speak.

I’ve been sick for days, now, and finally, after going to the convenience-care clinic yesterday, I was diagnosed with a bad dose of both bronchitis and sinus infection. So bad, in fact, the doc wouldn’t let me leave her office without making me have a nebulizer treatment, & giving me a scrip for both an antibiotic and prednisone (a steroid, to keep the bronchitis from becoming pneumonia).

I’ve taken steroids before, and…we don’t get along really well, so we’ll see how this goes. I might end up looking like a blowfish.

Anyway, I have no – and I mean – ZERO – physical strength right now. It’s a bit better than yesterday, shit…going to see the doc, then getting prescriptions? Man…I was wiped, and slept most of the rest of the day. I woke up long enough to eat something, so I could take the drugs I needed to, and called it a day.

It doesn’t help that my depression has been riding me hard for the last week or 2. I hide it, for the most part, because people just don’t want to deal with it, or me when they see it, but it’s always there, and I have to live with it. It doesn’t just wander off after a joke or 2. It’s not that easy.

I alternate today between the fires of hell and Antarctic winter. Take a deep breath, and I’m wracked with deep, hacking coughs, I remind myself of my Grandma…it’s a little frightening, and sad. I’m becoming her. She was plagued by chronic bronchitis. I don’t want to remember all the crap she had to go through. Just – not today. I’m tired, and not dealing well.

So, the only thing I have energy for, is pretty much this. I can type a little, or read for a while, until my body’s battery runs out, & I need a nap again.

I know, bitching doesn’t make it better.

But it makes me feel better to get it off my chest.

And if you don’t want to read it, don’t. *shrug*

Well, the battery has about bottomed out, & it’s time for more drugs again.

*sigh* maybe I just need to move somewhere where the air doesn’t hurt my face… Then bronchitis & pneumonia wouldn’t be such an issue.

Snake Bite!

It’s funny what the cessation of pain can do for your perspective.

And for your attitude.

It’s hard to realize just how much your attitude is affected by pain, until the pain stops.

Now, I’m not normally someone who goes around recommending products for anyone.

I might try new things for myself, say they “work for me” or don’t, or whatever, but I don’t try to tell anyone else whether they should use something or not.

But – I’m breaking that “rule” today.

I’ve also never come right out and publicly endorsed a product on my blog.

I’m doing that today, too.

Any of you who’ve been reading my blog for very long, know that I have rheumatoid arthritis in my hands.

I’ve been seeing a Rheumatologist for a few years now, and get steroid shots in my hands about every 6 months, just to keep the pain at bay. I also take daily anti-inflammatories to keep the swelling down. (My fingers get like little German sausages without them, and sometimes even with taking them – it’s yet another cause of discomfort, pain)

There is also a prescription gel that I have that’s supposed to help with pain. It does…a very little bit, but not to the extent I need anymore. It’s just not strong enough.

Well, I’ve been putting off going to see my Rheumatologist, because it’s kind of expensive, even with insurance, and I’ve been in a lot of pain. My thumbs, mostly.

Most people don’t realize just how much they rely on their thumbs for everything their hands do.

Pick up a stack of files?

Pressure on your thumb.

Lift a pitcher of juice out of the fridge?

TONS of pressure on your thumb.

Typing, which I do all day for my job, and typing on cell phones. Yes, different motions, but both rely on thumbs.

Getting dressed??? Try it with your thumb taped to the rest of your hand once, just to see what I’m talking about.

Luckily, the worst pain is in my left thumb, and I’m right handed, so at least I can “wipe” myself without pain. Geez.

Ok, so we’ve reviewed why I need pain relief.

Now, here’s the WHAT.

*I’m not getting paid to endorse this, wasn’t asked to endorse it, and the makers have no idea I’m writing this blog post. (I’m sure they have zero clue who I am, so, why would they know what I’m writing?)*

This is CobraZol.

And I’ll tell you right now, I’ve tried at least 4 other “arthritis pain relief” things that did- Zip. Nada. Zilch.

2 different types of daily supplements that were supposed to “boost your immune system, slow degeneration of joints & lessen pain, as well as 2 completely different type of creams. None of them worked – At. All. Binned- all of them.

But, the first time I rolled this stuff on my hands?

THE. FIRST. TIME.

Within 5-10 minutes, I had fucking relief from the pain.

The shoulders-falling, breath-blowing, muscles un-knotting, instant-smile kind of relief.

I found it on Amazon, & decided to give it a shot, after the last stuff I’d tried failed to live up to its hype. (I tried a hemp-derived cbd cream, no joy, & a strong smell, it went in the bin).

The CobraZol wasn’t expensive, just a little under $20 for a 2oz. roll-on bottle, so I figured, if it didn’t work, it wasn’t a big loss, right?

Well, I’ve been using this now since Wednesday night, so – approximately 3&1/2 days, & haven’t had to use my gel once, which is normally used 4 times a day. My hands have felt amazing, just some lingering muscle soreness (which could honestly be the beginnings of carpal tunnel, too, as I’ve been noticing some tingling & numbness in my fingers for about a week or so).

Ok, so, for those who noticed the name of the product. YES, it does mention COBRA.

The list of ingredients are on Amazon, as well as on the bottles, but, here are the main active ones:

Arnica

Capsicum

Rattlesnake venom

Bushmaster venom

Indian Cobra venom

Yes. 3 different types of venom. You read that correctly.

No, I don’t want to hear negative comments.

You see, I’ve done some research on this (I am a Google research nerd, don’t doubt).

I know the benefits of arnica and capsicum, so didn’t have to research those. (Witch, remember? I’ve read up on herbs, tinctures, & homeopathy)

Snake venom being used and useful for pain relief, however, I wasn’t familiar with, so I fucking looked it up. I don’t just buy things because some yahoo on the internet says so.

(Sorry, my mother had some things to say about this, or rather, we had a passive aggressive non-discussion about this, so I’m still a little tender around the mouth)

If you go look, and no, I’m not putting links in here, go look it up yourself if you want to read about the benefits of cobra venom in pain relief, you’ll find that there are many studies being done into how cobra venom, and even black mamba venom, have a better analgesic value than morphine, with fewer side effects.

A BETTER ANALGESIC VALUE THAN MORPHINE WITH FEWER SIDE EFFECTS.

Big pharma’s going to haaaaate that.

But, anywho.

Even if I couldn’t convince my mom that this was worth trying, I did convince many of the women in my office. I even got one of the others to try it, & she was convinced after about 20 minutes, when the pain she’d been having in her back for about a week was seriously reduced, & she had a better range if motion again.

She got on her Amazon account right away & ordered some for herself.

If that’s not a convincing endorsement, then I don’t know what is.

All I know right now, is that CobraZol works for me. The pain is so much less, which makes me feel better, & brings my mood up.

And lately? Anything that can bring my mood up is pretty much gold.

If that means snake venom?

Then…bite me.

Hourglass

Life slips away…don’t you know?

It slides right through our fingers, like sand…or water.

It’s so easy for it to slide past us, to wash behind us, and before we even realize it…

Years have gone by.

Oh, but yeah, the memories are there. And they are precious. And treasured.

But when you’re sitting home, alone, with no one to hold, no one to love, to care… At the end of the day.

The sand slips through your fingers like regret burns.

It’s the hazard of the way I’ve lived my life, I guess.

Not to settle for less than love.

Which means I end up alone.

Because the sand in my hourglass is over halfway through, and who wants to invest in that?

Don’t answer. It’s a stupid question.

And I already know the answer, anyway.

I’ve pushed them all away, at some point, so I guess some part of me feels as though I deserve to be alone.

Another year, another measure of sand through that hourglass.

Everyone tells me

“You have to hang onto the good times!” (Live in the past, it’s the only good thing left for you now!)

“There’s someone out there for you, if you stop looking, they’ll find you.” (If I “stopped looking” any harder, I’d poke both my eyes out, honestly.)

And, one of my personal favorites…

“If you’d put yourself out there a little more, smile more, you’d find somebody”. (Just be someone else, anyone else, other than yourself, cause bitch – you depressing!)

You know what? Fuck that.

I’m tired.

If someone is going to love me, they have to love all of it. Anxiety, depression, PTSD, along with the good stuff, the random gift-giving, the snuggling, the back rubs, the kinky sex, the off-color jokes, the random trivia, the insomnia, the random TV & movie obsessions I sometimes get, the odd music I listen to, the love of RPG gaming, all of it. (They don’t have to love my being Pagan, just accept it & not try to change me)

The same as I would have to love all their weird quirks, and learn to live with, or at least compromise with, theirs.

That’s what love is.

It’s NOT about the first flush of passion & the rush of lust that floods your hormones with fire and sparks.

It’s NOT about the lovey dovey eyegasms people give each other from across the room when they first start dating.

And it’s NOT about the giggly phone conversations saying “You hang up”, …”NO, YOU hang up…”

Gag.

It’s about rubbing your partner’s feet at the end of a long day, because he has to walk a lot in hard boots in cold weather.

It’s about cooking dinner while she grabs a shower, because her brain feels like mush after a long day of dealing with stupid people on the phone.

It’s about not killing each other over how you load the dishwasher, or how you fold towels, or whether you fold, roll-up, or fold-into-themselves your socks before they go in your drawer.

I’m just tired, I guess.

Sometimes I wish I had someone here to share everything with. I hate that I come home alone, every night, to an empty house. That there’s no one here to take care of but the cats.

(They’re assholes, but I know at least Sally loves me. She says so every time I sneeze. Truly. I sneeze -she cries & jumps in my lap & checks on my face)

And I’ve gone down the rabbit-hole tangent.

Anyway…

I know I’ll be alone.

It’s difficult sometimes, being on my own.

It hurts.

I’m not used to it, and I don’t really like it. I’d rather have someone to take care of, and someone who will take care of me back.

But – this is where I am.

Whether through past choices I made, or whatever, this is where I’ve ended up.

And the hourglass doesn’t run the other direction.

I have no idea how much time is left.

So, I guess the memories will have to do.