Mar. 21st, 2017

quirkytizzy: (Default)
Not shiny, mind you. Not new. Not full of refreshed energy or a zest for life. I hurt in every way possible right now, physically as well.

I apparently woke up halfway through the incubation, broke the hospital restraints, and ripped out the breathing tube, air bulb beneath it still full. It's left me with a HELL of a bruised wrist and bruised airway. They couldn't give me more anesthesia (I guess that would have been another overdose). There's a weird pride in having been able to do that - and a regret that I did, because fucking hell, it still hurts.

That I can safely say I did not mean to do. The things we do while under the delirium of anesthesia....

But I am back. Call me refurbished. Call me found art. Call me...a nervous little girl who is petrified of herself, the world around her, and what it and I will do to me.

But like Jesse told me last night, just because Mike Tyson takes a right hook to the jaw and falls to the mat, it doesn't mean he's forgotten how to fight. And as scared as I am about the fight ahead, he is right. I still know how to fight. I've done it before. I can do it again.

The Basics: I wasn't actually trying to kill myself. It was the strangest thing I think I've ever experienced. I'd thought to myself a nap would be nice, went to take a quarter of my Seroquel, and stood in the kitchen with the bottle and a glass of milk in my hand.

And then I thought )

I've been off Prednisone for a week now. I am mentally clearer, emotionally a wreck, and sad that anything spicy I might consider eating will tear up my esophagus.

I've received all responses about hope. I've never read responses so closely before. I've never needed people's experiences so much as I do right now. I've never had so much to process between what's going on in my head and what other people have told me has gone on in THEIR heads.

I want to think that I what I did doesn't mean I'd lost hope. But people with hope don't take an entire month's worth of sleeping pills at once. Somewhere along the line, along with everything else, hope had also taken its leave.

One thing I know above anything else: The trees have begun to bloom. The grass is green. It is spring. It has now been a full year of dealing with the wolf, first not all knowing why I was being torn apart by sharp teeth, and then hemorrhaging for months from having my throat ripped out.

I lost last spring, last summer, last fall, and last winter.



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