If anyone’s read over my last posts, you’d know about the antidepressant withdrawal and the brain tumour. Things aren’t getting better, it has been 8 months and my emotions are still numb. Then again, I haven’t taken any pills yet. The Cabergoline is still in its prescription bag, and the antidepressants too.
My issue is, I spent money on a Reiki Healer as I wanted some of my lost emotions restored. Instead she heals my brain tumour and claims it’s gone for good. But how do I know it’s gone without evidence in front of me? I’m needing another MRI for that, but the doctors where I’m from don’t give a shit about your wellbeing and wouldn’t even blink if you died thanks to their neglect. So asking for another MRI for reassurance isn’t going to happen, and I guess now I’m sat here wondering if I can take these meds.
I’ve lost the fucking plot anyway. When’s the last time I was bothered enough to eat food? Yesterday mum commented on my hands looking more skinny than usual. Eh, I didn’t even realise. Weren’t my hands always boney? That isn’t anything new. Then again, she might be right. My arms are getting skinnier.
Fuck if I have any emotions it would seem like I’m enjoying this. I’m reaching a point where I’m so numb and cut away from reality, that even eating doesn’t feel real. Like I’m separated from even needing to sustain nutrients etc. That I could simply survive without them, but obviously nobody can.
Yes all of the above sounds insane, that I’m losing the plot. I am, but I’ve still got some coherence left. The sense that if I don’t take my brain meds I’m not going to recover and if I don’t eat my body isn’t going to have the energy to fight.
I’m pushing myself towards suicide though. Really, imagine dying this way. Weakness, collapsing with exhaustion. Even my iron is low. I think. I haven’t even taken those iron pills, I can’t even ask if I still need them. My GP scares me.
When my prolactin levels shot up she didn’t even seem to care. Just said, “oh your prolactin is slightly elevated” and left me to it. I had to chase HER up to give me the results and all of a sudden she asks if I’m okay with an emergency MRI.
See? If I died she wouldn’t care. Lol. I’m just a stranger, a patient, a little money maker after all. She isn’t obligated to care. Doctors don’t have to have any empathy.
Whatever. Oh well. I’m dead. Can barely write, think or feel. Anyone remember DuringMyDarkestDays? That was me. Hello. We had some good times together. Too bad I forgot my account password back then.
4 comments
We are all passing slowly, denying self is the slowest and most painful way, but I support your right to choose. That’s what’s missing in most cases, giving the ability to choose. It’s probably irony, I take away other’s choices to gain control in my own life, what I wish to give away most is the ability to choose.
Narrative is the most human part of us all. There’s some instinct to make a story out of the chaos and disorder. It’s actually fascinating to imagine it going the other way, to lose the threads of plot. I have the other problem half the time; mania is seeing plots that cannot be, will never be, are absurd. I would give it to you, had I the proper method.
Regardless, here we are, witnessing your decline. There may be nothing to do, this year has taught me so much about that. Witnessing, giving acceptance is the only gift there is in such a scenario.
Such eeriness is being told that others are witnessing my decline. It’s such a joke, because despite the rot taking place in my brain, apparently my vitals and blood pressure etc is fine. I was told by paramedics that I was fit and healthy despite the tumour.
Unless I’m delusional and hallucinating most of this. There’s no telling, since I started and stopped that antidepressant in March. Who knows what part of me is in reality or not?
I don’t entirely understand your comment, by the way. Mania is something I’ve dealt with and it isn’t wanted personally.
Wish everyone had the right to choose in this life, but even the acceptable things aren’t chosen. Did I have a choice when antidepressants were forced down my throat as a kid? No. Even my parents didn’t safeguard me away from the twisted doctors, they could’ve lied and said I had taken them.
Amusingly it’s like the world is trying to balance itself for me before my eyes. Whereas before I was pressed into taking medication that destroyed my brain cells, now I’m suddenly crossing paths with Reiki Healers and doctors telling me, “oh you don’t need meds!”
WHERE WERE YOU IN MARCH THEN? HUH? IF SOMEONE WAS REALLY LOOKING OUT FOR ME, THEY WOULD’VE PREVENTED THE DAMAGE IN MARCH.
Eh, rant over.
I wonder if you’ll respond to this? Most cases when someone replies to a comment people go blank. This site doesn’t give notifications so it’s harder, I understand that.
All isn’t lost at the moment. Still got the Cabergoline to take and some other method. If I recover life will be excellent and I’ll savour every little drop of happiness. That’s what I keep telling my spirit guide and the Heavens.
The soul may be sick, and the flesh unaware. I’ve been monitoring my vitals of late, they often fail to tell the story of my own disturbed nature.
Honestly, I wish I was here for you in March. Curse of the tender heart, I definitely knew that many were suffering in March. It was my failure to be appropriately ready to attempt at comfort, or peddling what little hope I can provide.
You’re an insightful individual, that is of innate value to me. I’m of the position now that it isn’t always possible to “save” people. Yet, people cry out in loneliness and agony, and to leave them be seems a greater cruelty. Die, live, in the grand scheme we are all dust to the wind, and equally important/meaningless.
It is some thing of a feeling, that all “disorder” is looking at the world differently. To disassociate is to say “all is meaningless”, and given the pain in the world it’s a hard point to argue against. To be manic is to say “There are important things here, and no one is really paying attention to them.” Given the amount of bright lonely people I encounter, that’s a hard point to argue against as well.
Perhaps all is hallucination, even what others agree with us on. Perhaps all is real, even dreams. It comes down to how hard it is to walk away, and how hard it is to invest. To walk away you have to truly convince yourself that the thing is meaningless or without value. To invest, you must convince the opposite, that there is great meaning and value in the thing you invest in.
Life is a pyramid scheme in that way. It buys us up, gets us to invest. Then one day it occurs to us that maybe it was all nonsense from the start. Then we realize we suspected that from the day we were born, and we realize how used and manipulated we’ve been. What then? Eh? Do we break away and either find something new or perish? Do we search deeper until we can justify our passions? I don’t know. It’s why I spend my time more with the sick than the well. The well don’t care about these vague and nonspecific problems. The sick care about little else. Who is the mad one I wonder? The one satisfied with chaos, or the one disturbed by it?
Oh. Also as a point of reference. Please make sure not to read any hidden meanings that aren’t there. I’m just being direct with the starvation and everything, etc. I’m a simple minded person, not hard to speak to at all.