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I lay.

8/31/2017

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​Today I woke without alarm and without ache or pain.  Seems a lovely change of pace.  I lay.  Noise outside my rowhome was regular - a newspaper hitting the door, car engines whirring, a boisterous good morning from the porch houses.  None of it was deafening.  I lay.  I lay and watched the local meteorologist encourage me to get out and enjoy the day as summer handed the baton of season to autumn and a sunbeam cascade through the blinds onto my cheek.  
I could not bring myself to rise.  And the mere thought of getting pants on was not conceived in any synapse of my brain, also lying, in a laze, pain free and unaffected by the tick or the tock of responsibility. 
I lay.  
It is regular to be pained - even moreso when the sunlight illuminates. 
So why then, I wonder, on a day free of the inside noise and ache, do i lay in apathy for the world? 
Eight - thirty happened.  Nine o'clock did too. I was not a participant.  I lay. 
My head is in motion now.  It churns with the unease of being free of pain and chaos.  I sit at the train station with cicadas buzzing in my ears, waxing and waning in cycles of sound and think curiously about the one who isn't ready to make noise yet.  The one with the broken wing who may be ready tomorrow or the day after.  
I am that bug.  I am surrounded by noise and chirp through days because it's expected.  I power through the days I hurt and on the rare occasion when I don't, I'm not sure exactly what to do with my body - but there is a piece of me that just wants to lay.  
On the train, I hear the white noise of the air conditioning.  I see the flueresent lighting and overhear conversations.  Someone sniffles.  Someone turns the page of a graphic novel I strain my neck to read.  A woman whose bun is bigger than her head shakes in laughter at the absurdity a fellow commuter shares.  Another day, these noises would be uncomfortable.  They would hurt my ears and my thoughts.  Today, I'm at peace.  
And it seems strange to go on so long about it, but the very ease at which my eyes and ears are participating in my journey is alarming to me. 
For those who are normal - for those who don't understand there is a regular in which some take comfort because a normal is unattainable - there will never be an understanding of the rest of us.  
It's not quirky or cute - Its a struggle.  It's bizarre and wonderful and terrifying and disheartening and every other feeling there is, all jumbled up as a ball of knotted twine ... without the capacity to foresee what will be unraveled before it vomits out making a mess. 
Today I feel normal.  And perhaps I lay so that I could feel that?  Perhaps I lay so that I could file away everything associated with normalcy?  I think I finally understand why it's lovely to be in such a state.  
Thursday August 31.  The day seems important in a memory somewhere, although press me and I will not conjure up the truth or a lie about a moment that had occurred.  But this morning, I think the sheer complacency of inner peace is enough for me.  

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Same.

8/23/2017

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This is the handful of pills I take daily now.  Yeah, some are gummies and look like candy; they are vitamins.  Today I took six extra pills.  Ibuprofen for pain.  I frequently take pain killers (because my pancreas is eating itself), but today I made a huge mistake and was in hospital quality pain again.  
     Einstein said doing the same thing and expecting different result is crazy.  I of course hear this ad nauseam from ... well, everyone.  And everyone that says it thinks they are being tremendously clever by recalling the addage.  But the troublesome thing is, it doesn't feel like the same thing. 
 At any rate, today... 
   Einstein said doing the same thing and expecting different result is crazy.  I of course hear this ad nauseam from ... well, everyone.  And everyone that says it thinks they are being tremendously clever by recalling the adage.  But the troublesome thing is, it doesn't feel like the same thing. 
   My exploration of mental wellness and physical health collided hard and I thought juggling both a physical and mental illness in a chronic state was enough of a challenge.  But understanding that the medications approved by the FDA and proven to work for bipolar disorder cause damage to the pancreas.  Having had a few bouts with acute pancreatitis and feeling the daily effects chronic pancreatitis, is enough for me to decline the help those meds offer.  I reason, if my brain is well and my body turns to shit, what's the point?  

     Well, this week has been hard.  I'm gonna say since last Thursday I've had some rough days emotionally.  Sinking.  It seems with the current bipolar treatment, the cycle of depression is lasting longer.  And that could be a means to an end as historically, it's been hypermanic episodes lasting for weeks and then a crash into depression for a couple days.  The depression never lasted more than a week before.  However, having said that, suicidal thoughts (and if I'm honest, plans) presented themselves sometime in May and haven't really gone; and, that was before this new round of treatment.  In fact, that precipitated this round with the good doctor. 
At any rate, today I ate a piece of chicken.  My pain had been manageable is present at all.  The pain experiences physically in the past two weeks has been calmed with ibuprofen and the rainbow of urine color has not lasted long in comparison to the past.  
     At least...  
     I hate hearing that.  At least you don't look sick.  Your sister's dead; at least you have other siblings.  Your son is in a submarine; at least you have the girls for Sunday dinner.  You're hallucinating; at least you know they're not real.  You're physically and mentally breaking down; at least you're still standing and hiding it well. 
     Today I would have given anything to hear those words.  At least... Someone I see almost daily approached me after two hours of crying in excruciating pain and said, 'You look like you...[pause]  What is wrong with you?'  
     I'm embarrassed that my body doesn't work like others.  I'm embarrassed that my brain doesn't work like others.  I sat crying and wincing and whimpering with my eyes pressed tight hoping I could muster up the strength to walk to the bathroom and try vomiting out the offensive food.
    I didn't do the same thing expecting a different result.  I have been eating moderately with a mindfulness of the nutrients I was putting into my body.  I have been careful with feeding the cravings and have been vocal in using the words, 'no thank you.'  
   So, i'm trying to reason out all the inconsistencies.  I'm not trying to do something different.  I'm actually trying to do something the same.  And there is still a piece of me that doesn't know why.   

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    Picture
    Picture
    When Sevy realizes the pharmaceuticals keeping their bodies young are weened from those deemed to have exhausted their usefulness, he believes he must delve into the purpose of this synthesized society believing it is not much different than the life he lived on earth. 
    Picture

    Esther Elizabeth Buck

    i'm halfway through my life with the stifled stories stirring.  i should have done it earlier, but i am on the
     write path finally.

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