Category Archives: grief

Depression, grief, Just me

Depression, separation, and Birthday parties…

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They don’t love you anymore.

Perhaps they never loved you.

You shouldn’t bother to celebrate, no one will come.  You should stay in your room with the cat.

I have a shadow self, an other self.  She is my depressed self.  She is the one who undermines my efforts and wins on those days when I can’t get out of bed.  She got a lot stronger during my illness and the last three years of my marriage.  She is still, at times, stronger than I.

My friend group is caught in the middle of our separation.  Both my ex and I are working very hard to be civil, and even friendly, but we both managed to hurt each other immensely, so it’s hard.   It’s hard on us, it’s hard on the kids, and it’s hard on our friends.  We don’t go to the same parties and our friends are having to choose who to invite where, and when.

I know this. I know they love me, are caught in the middle, and I shouldn’t listen to the dark fucked up other me and preemptively break up with all of them because they haven’t called lately.

But she doesn’t know that.  She whispers from within the depressed and struggling part of my soul.  They chose him.  You should let them go.  They don’t want you anymore.

Which is why it took me forever to decide if I was having a birthday party.

At first I thought I should invite everyone I know to stop by and say hello.  It sounded like a great idea.  Then she whispered What if no one comes? How much of a confirmation of how unloved you are do you really want on your birthday? You should skip a party.

So I decided no party.  Why open myself up for that kind of hurt? Especially now,  in the midst of my struggle out of depression.  Then I realized I am perfectly capable of not having a party and then still feeling like none of my friends love me because they didn’t come to a party I didn’t throw.  She is very devious and effective, this dark and fucked up other me.

So now I am kind of having a party.  It took me three hours to invite our mutual friends. Three hours of clicking the invite button, then unclicking it. Three hours of her whispering in my ear.

So now they are invited. Many are coming. She is still there whispering to me. It’s a mistake.

* btw, if you want to attend said party, and you haven’t gotten a FB invite, it’s probably because I gave up and clicked rapidly on names and then logged out. Feel free to come.  It’s Oct. 18th, at my house, about 6:00 or so. BYOB and food. (email or call for directions.)

grief, health, Migraine

Pin Cushion

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It’s been a hell of a week.

I went in to the doctor on Friday last for a Occipital Nerve Block, hoping that it, unlike the infusion treatment, would end the now two month long headache from hell.  The normally kind and non-torturing physician’s assistant took out a huge syringe with matching needle and shot me four times in the very base of my skull.  He claimed it wouldn’t hurt.  He lied.

The block was inordinately painful to receive.  I was swearing halfway through the first injection, blubbering through the second and by the third was sobbing quietly while trying desperately not to move my head.  He felt really badly for hurting me so and got to the point where he was murmuring my name and patting my shoulder awkwardly between shots.

Sadly, the pain was for naught.  The nerve block didn’t work at all.  I didn’t get a single minutes relief.  The headache from hell, which at this point really should be given a name and address, is still here.

On Monday I called and freaked out on the doctor’s poor receptionist.  My mom suggested I not be the ‘patient’ patient anymore and instead see how responsive my doctors are if I become the ‘crazy’ demanding patient. Unfortunately for my doctors’ future interactions with me, crazy demanding worked. I had tests scheduled the following day and a new treatment scheduled for today.

Today I get to have 34 botox injections in my face, head, and neck.  I am scared they will be as painful and as ineffective as a the nerve block.  Today I should also get my test results back.  I don’t know which to be more frightened of, a response telling me there is nothing they can find wrong with me, or a response finding the source of these headaches.

I certainly don’t want to have a brain tumor or odd swelling head disease or anything, but I also don’t want to spend the rest of my life being turned into a human pin cushion and guinea pig because no one can figure out how to cure me.

It seems deeply unfair that I would reach 38 and already know what it’s like to be really old.  Sick, unable to do what I want, always conscious of how much energy I don’t have to expend.  I should still be conquering the world, not trying to figure out how to survive it.