You keep me up all night, sometimes days. This is one of your most effective ways of hurting me, causing despair and feelings of loneliness. Instead of sitting here, discouraged with a headache, I beat you. I studied Psalm 139.
So, better and more accurately worded, God helped me whoop your insomnia curse. One hour at a time, if I must. God is with me.
Usually, I enjoy the quiet when everyone in the house has gone to bed. It’s nice as I can real quick-like freak out because of overstimulation. People talking too loud. Too much action on the tv. Accidentally reading something stressful. Just too much movement, noise and…well, chaos.
However, tonight with the sun down and everyone asleep, I feel incredibly lonely. That tends to not go all that well for me, because some crapola from my past sneaks in and floors me. Sometimes, I can sort through it using the toolbox my therapist and I built. The other times, nothing works. Tonight is just that…nothing working.
I wrote about what was bothering me, my dad long-gone and my family through him. Steps and halves. Easier to say family, even if it doesn’t feel that way 100% of the time. I’m not going to post it yet, though. I’ve learned to let it simmer and read it again the next day after some rest…figure out if I still think I should post it, or send the email, or make a call…whatever the case may be.
So, I wait…
At the end of the blog entry called Stress/Pain Cycle, I mentioned I would be doing a follow-up entry, this time coming up eith ideas to hopefully prevent, or at least manage, the cycle’s snowball effect somewhat better. I need to figure out a way to prevent the stress the initial inicident causes, such as Fibromyalgia flare-ups and increasing my back pain and arthritic pain. And oh!! The migraines! Additionally, I need to figure out, once I do find myself in the cycle, how to lessen the physical pain I am feeling.
Today the physical pain is somewhat better. That is because I avoided the root problem of what caused this latest cycle. Basically, that’s saying that I hid in my room and didn’t have interaction with my mother. However, as the day wears on, I am starting to feel more more physical pain.
Now once I have the pain, I know that I can use anti-inflammatory gel, medication that has been prescribed to me, heating pads, stretches, and mld exercise. Those things tend to help the physical pain, in addition to employing grounding exercises and prayer. Basically, if I can calm my emotional pain somewhat, then the physical pain gets better. Bottom line, after all, is that it’s all painful. I learned techniques for chronic pain relief at a pain management clinic, such as biofeedback. This part of the cycle I have a better hold on and ideas how to handle it.
The major problem I face is how to manage the stressor/trigger in the first place. This proves more difficult in that my mother, and her numerous needs, lives with me. I need to establish boundaries and try to stick to them. I also need to use the grounding techniques using all five senses and being present in the moment three times a day instead of once. Next step is to speak to my therapist because, as you can see, I need help and advice.
Have you been through similar? Any thoughts/feedback?
Colouring & listening to books!
What do I colour? Calming nature scenes, oceans, cats & Psalms scripture so far. What books are playing while I’m colouring? Karin Slaughter, Paula Hawkins, Carla Norton, Shakespeare, Edgar A. Poe, Agatha Christie, poetry, Biblical scripture…& much more.
Last night, I had an extremely heightened, loud, dramatic and exhaustive argument with my mother. My mother lives with us, so there was no home to which I could retreat and decompress. No respite. For a while after, like a 2-3 hours kind of while, I sat stunned. Staring. A lot was brought up and said during that argument, mostly by me, but my mother has never been one to talk much, whether she has negative or positive things to say. Mostly negative, though. Count on that. She feels I have been wasting her money, as I have been taking care of all accounts, bills, insurance and doctor payments, etc while she was away with surgery and rehab. She also does not (or won’t?) recognize the physical and emotional toll that her return from the hospital has had on me (and lack of following through with her physical therapy program and gaining strength and independence). She actually asked me, “Well, what do you do for me?” I heard an audible gasp from my son, who was unfortunately in the kitchen, while this loud disagreement was going on in the living room. I told her I’d write her a list. (Currently, it’s two pages long.) I explained to her the system I had in place for using her money, and the why behind it. The reasons for the financial plan in place. It is simply taking care of her future should she need to go back to a rehab or nursing home. It’s long and sorted and not really the point. Just kind of setting the stage for you.
The other part of that is that I lost control and yelled. I mean, I yelled loud and hard about things from the past, and some current day. To me, they still have much to do with one another. I yelled about feeling I’ve never truly been valued by her, that she always told me how to do it better (if I was lucky) or, more likely, how and why I was just plain wrong. I brought up a step-father who was quite abusive and liked to show off his guns, often pointed in the face. So many things burst through some sort of compartmentalized type box.
That explosion has ravaged my mind and body today. Anxiety is through the roof.
Depression, right along side it. I’ve had a fibromyalgia flare-up. Arthritis is more symptomatic today. My feet hurt (braces for each are due in about a month – feet and leg – due to tendinitis and other issues that came about from pushing my mother in the wheelchair). They ache, and it is proving difficult to walk. My lower lumbar fused back is on fire and stabbing. My head is about to take me down, with its clustered migraine.
This is what angers me the most. Stress leading to chronic pain becoming so severe I can hardly breathe when trying to move. I’m going to set up a time to speak with my therapist soon. This cannot continue, or I will not make it to 50 without several more visits to mental hospitals and ending up in a wheelchair myself. I’m 40 years old now. I’m so tired.
Next entry, I’m going to discuss and ask for ideas on how to prevent this cycle, or at least effectively treat it and not be down and out so long.
Self-help. Art therapy.
Listen to a good book. Colour. Snugs with the kitty.
My Richard Parker. He often steals my blanket when in my lap.