The pain cuts deep. It stings and it burns and I simply can’t hold back the tears that fall. Taken back to hospital just when I thought I was okay. Just like always, the hope comes crashing down, once relaxed but back on guard.
Always seem to be falling. Always dragged backwards against my will. Weighed down, feeling like I could drown.
It hurts more than the pain that has brought me back to hospital.
It hurts more than the pain I felt from June 18.
It aches and it hurts.
The word that there is something else wrong with me.
Another diagnosis, another condition, another something or other wrong with me.
Another broken piece.
When I feel ‘fixed’ I get broken again.
Whether it’s by family, friends, boys or myself…just constantly being broken.
And I am so tired. I’m exhausted.
‘Damaged Goods’ – that’s what I am and you can tell me I’m not but it won’t change how I feel right now.
Taken to surgery, kidney fixed. Endless list of medication for the time being and review booked in. It wasn’t even too serious; I’ll be better by the end of the month. But a month off work, a few weeks away from my best friend…it’s hard not to feel broken and lonely when that’s all that you can relate to.
I wasn’t able to eat – the illness took care of that. I didn’t have an appetite for 3 weeks and if I ate, my body couldn’t keep it down. Such a triggering situation and I’m working to keep it away. To not relapse over those feelings of ’empty’, the feelings I used to crave.
They said it’s likely to happen again but there’s not much I can do. Just drink excessive amounts of water and they’ll monitor the rest. Just when I was getting a grip on so many things, getting so much happier in myself, just something else. Always something else.
Dragging me back to reality.
My reality that I’ll never be normal. That I’ll always be a burden to those who have to help me. That I’ll always be ill, disabled…used…abused…broken or worse.
Wouldn’t it be nice to eat and drink without fear? To not have the nightmares? To not be rushed to hospital at 4am? To not have to have emergency surgery?
Give me a week and I’ll know it’s not true. I’ll realise I’m tough for dealing with all my crap. I’ll smile because I’ll be proud of every step I’ve had to take in my pretty shitty life.
I know what I’m like…I’ll feel awesome in no time.