The Haunting Time Is Coming Near!

The Ghoullog - Mountaintop Haunt at Cranmore, North Conway, NH


I've been fighting words the past few weeks, I don't know how to talk. I don't know how to say it. So I'll just tell it as it forms. I don't know how to not break down...
Slowly, I'm cracking. Slowly, the fissures open up further and further... The pressure, the stress, the frustration and outright anger pushing them open more and more.

My "Merry Christmas" came in the form of a letter from the disability company I've been fighting with on December 27th. While my Christmas with my family was great, this was news I was hoping would be better this time around. The envelope was thick, a few pages of paper. I opened it... Started to read... Scanned for what I was looking for, but instead found...


Again. I've been fighting with M for months. Hell, a few more and we can call it a year. Between me doing all the footwork for their lazy, brainless, insincere and cold uncaring treatment from the beginning, and this second devastating blow, I broke. I cried, for a long time. It was days before I decided I should wear something other than PJ's around the house. Days before I could come up with a reason, any reason, to get out of bed. Days before I ventured outside. Even this morning, it was a monumental effort to drag myself out of bed to come downstairs. I have very little interest in anything lately.

Happiness is fleeting. I have good days, I have bad days. I have really bad days. Each is consisting of a various amount of things- including pain level, stress level, mental state, motivation... Blah blah blah. When I have one, typically it's ok to plaster on a smile and will myself to feel better. Two or more, and I let myself just melt into my chair... Computer on my lap, not really paying attention to what's on my screen.... And let the hours tick away. Wasting time, so much that by the time my eyelids droop, my eyes sting, and my head is foggy... I finally retreat to bed.

This not working, not being active, not doing much of anything is so unlike me.
I'm used to working. I'm used to be go-go-going. This fog, this pain, this entire thing I've become so comfortably numb with is slowly eating me away. I hate it.

Can you imagine how hard it is to sit up, roll out of bed. To look into a mirror and see a body that should be functioning with little problem. A body that should be skiing down a mountain slope, not curled into a recliner at an odd angle trying to find that "sweet spot" which is comfortable. A body which does not do what I want it to. Painful spasms, kinks, contractions which hurt. Feeling like I've sat down on a baseball on good days, and a cantelope on bad. The really bad days... I don't have a comparable object. Sort of like the Princess and the Pea.... Except mine's stuck in my friggen back. Multiple places.

I've shocked some people with my appearance. I've lost 60 lbs since I came home. I'm noticeably thinner, even when I do wear bulky clothing. I know it's a compliment when people tell me I look good... Mostly, I don't disagree. But look at the cost of my new figure. Months of being off my feet. A misdiagnosis from multiple doctors, an overdose of a heavy duty medication from a supposed neurologist. Musical-chairs with medications, trying combinations of this and that to see what works... What alleviates my pain, what alleviates the spasms, what will put me into manageable condition where I can partially function. I've found part of the answer now- with the help of Dr. C. It's only been since the end of September I've been able to say I'm not in a drug-induced medication fog. Not completely, at any rate. I'm impaired enough that I still cannot drive. That, for me, was my freedom. Get in the vehicle, drive a while. Think, calm down, see the big picture. Escape for a while. Now I'm just a passenger wherever I go. Though, I have to admit I like that my ass doesn't spread across the entire width of the seat anymore, and I do like that.

When I do smile, when I do laugh... I try to hold on to it for as long as I can. I want to be the silly, quirky, bubbly person I was just a year ago. I paint my makeup on so I can find happiness in it. I try to feel better...

But some days it's just too much effort.


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