Sunday, April 17, 2016

Hear me when I talk about psychological pain.

You have to understand that I do have a frame of reference. I have an IUD thanks to debilitating cramps and heavy flow that had me thinking I might bleed to death. I fell down a flight of stairs on my ass once. Recently actually. I've been tattooed all over. I've been pierced. I've had strep throat and bronchitis, more than once. I had a bad bout of pneumonia. I've had wisdom teeth removed. I've had vertigo. I've woken up to partial face paralysis thanks to Bell's Palsy.

I've known emotional hardships. My father died at home of a major heart attack when I was 13. Within the next two years I would go on to lose both grandmothers.

I've had my heart broken. I've known gradual, increasingly degrading, unhealthy "love." I've carried deep shame. I struggle with feeling like an unlovable piece of shit, often. I've had friendships disintegrate during the most difficult times of my life. I was so desperate for care, but I was too much for those around me. I was too desperate.

I've been isolated. Though I'm working my way away from certain habits, like a wounded animal my nature has me wandering out to the middle of a field to die alone.

I can't seem to trust people. Especially not lovers. So I've had none. None since the first, none since the shame of it all.

I can stand on my own. In strength and in defiance but also in fear.

I also know myself. I've worked hard and struggled tremendously to access help. I've drudged through my life at times, yes, but I've continued forward. Whether at a snails pace or only staring forward through a cloud of despair, I'm still here.

Understand that when I talk about psychological pain I mean it. These words are not theory. They aren't loose descriptors. When I saw "psychological pain" I mean the kind that seers the chest and often over-whelms the senses. It's an invasion of your nervous system. It's acid in your veins.

Understand that your brain is a fucking wizard. It is everything of who you are and how your complex, ridiculous body works. You can wake up tomorrow in a new world tomorrow, due only to your brain. You sneeze and the colour blue vanishes from your perception. Sudden amnesia and you devastate those around you.

Understand that the brain's magic owes you shit. And for some of us, we know that in an unavoidable way.

With the early days of bell's palsy, the right side of my face was entirely paralyses. My right eye did not blink. Never in my life before that point, had I thought about the importance of blinking regularly, or of my privilege for having been able to take for granted my blinking for 32 years.

And so, I was made aware of the fragility and the impermanence of the most routine of functions.

And for some, that is the absence of chronic, psychological pain.
My wearing an eye patch and having a face that was visibly drooping and unresponsive meant questions and concern. These visible wounds could not be ignored. Doctor's visits are readily acceptable. Being tired, and reduced hours are understood and encouraged.

Where is this understanding on days on which I wish I were dead?

Where is the understanding of this other language I have, this language of "having spoons" or of "needing to shut down."

Is it easier for you if it's science fiction? Life support functions fall to critical and I do all I can to just stay alive.

What of fantasy? Curses that damn. Feelings of being targeted, of you being singled out. Of feeling plagued. Of being limited. Deep pains you deserve.

My pain is not easily described.

My pain is real. It exists. I survive it often.

Hear me when I talk about psychological pain, and understand that for the most part, those of us suffering are struggling for access to care.

I've known many kinds of pain.

This pain is actively trying to kill me, and yet it's the easiest to ignore by the medical establishment. I walk right by you, and you don't notice. There is no gaping wound.

What kind of fucked up is it, when you wish you had it, the physical symptom. My demon lesion. It's an obvious fucked up. And on good days, there is no proof. Just the lingering fumes from difficult days both behind and ahead. 

No comments:

Post a Comment