Hospital 

So I had a pretty messed up day. 

It all started fine. Got ready for work, started work etc. All good. I was actually pretty excited about today because I had a bunch of presents coming for my Mum’s birthday. I bought her a scarf and handbag as well as a cute hedgehog shaped key ring. All really cute things. I also ordered some China mugs from Amazon which were really sweet. 

Anyway, my package arrives about 2pm and I eagerly open it up to see the goodies and one of my mugs is smashed to pieces. Part of me is angry with the driver but then again, Amazon never put on the box that it was fragile so should I be surprised? I had to chat with them anyway and I spoke with a complete idiot who took ages to comprehend what I was saying. After forty minutes of deliberation, we finally got to the point where I got my replacement sorted and all was well in the world. Well, so at least I thought. 

About five minutes after getting back to work, I all of sudden become overcome by excruciating pain. I should add that I have been having gastrointestinal issues now for a number of years but this was pain like I’ve never felt. I was bent over on the floor, I couldn’t sit down, I couldn’t lie down. It was unbearable.  Being a stupid proud man, I tried to shake it off. “No no, it’s okay” I said while I was writhing around on the floor. This continued on for 3 and a half hours. At this point, post powerful painkillers and all my usual treatments, I said “I can’t take this anymore. I need to go to hospital”. 

Now I hate going to hospitals.  Well, specifically, I hate going to Accident and Emergency because frankly nothing ever gets resolved there. But I had no choice. I needed help and my Dad, bless him, ran me down there to help me. 

When I got there, there was the usual stick. You register at the desk and then await to be seen. I was in such excruciating pain though that I just wanted help. Eventually, a nurse saw me and she gave me some more powerful painkillers. Things began to settle down a bit at that point and I waited patiently at the waiting section to see a doctor. In the end, I waited about 90 minutes to be seen which all in all wasn’t that bad. 

The doctor sadly wasn’t much help though. She gave me a prescription for more painkillers and she said that if it gets worse to come back. Really great huh? Anyway, after a period of time, I got home and now I feel like crap. The pain is absolutely excruciating still and I really wish I could just sleep. 

Nothing says Thursday night like a hospital though. 

Dying inside (Poem)

I come to bed at night and think
of misery that comes my way
Often not in physical form
but through my thoughts and mind instead,

A deepest darkness fills inside
And there is no real clear escape
When little things make major mountains
out of stupid little molehills that
mean much more than perhaps they should.

If folks could know when dealing with
the sadness that their comments bring
it’s just a number, that’s all it is
But to me it is my life
when you grab on to little things
those molehills put you into strife

I’ll never get my contentment back
those days are far and gone for good
I’d say I’m dying here inside
But death has come. My heart. No thud. 

Music and depression 

I don’t know whether you have ever experienced this. But something that I have noticed with me, especially during my darkest days was the way I used music to accompany my depression. And when I say accompany, I don’t mean to soothe or to relax me. I listen to the music almost as if I want to encourage my depression on. It’s like I’m saying “come on! Take me under”. And I don’t quite know why that is.

I have clear recollections of being at my lowest. That deep low that only depression can take you where you want to do anything to stop the pain. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. In fact, what I was doing was more like punishing myself. Picking songs deliberately that struck a chord. Songs that reflected my mood in ways that I could verbalise. Or songs that highlighted how I’m alone, heartbroken, distraught or a failure. I can remember when I was cheated on how I would purposefully play songs that reminded me of her. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It broke me down and I don’t quite not know why I did it. It deliberately caused me pain. Part of me thinks I did it because I thought I deserved the pain. I’m a failure and that I deserve this. So listen to the damn music.

And when I have been really low about other things. The same again. I’ve listened to songs about the futility in trying and giving up when I’ve just wanted to give up. Encouraging myself to push me over the edge. It’s a bizarre, dark road that I sometimes lead myself down.

These days I still hate myself. Nothing much has changed there. And the fact that I can’t find love hurts me dearly. I look at some people who are mean and cruel or other negative things and see them woman after woman and no one even looks at me twice. It’s probably because I’m ugly and fat although no one would dare say that to my face (well, actually one girl did but that’s another story!). But now, I try to avoid that music. Living with my illnesses is more than enough punishment without punishing myself more. Sometimes that means I don’t listen to music for a while. But it’s better this way.

Do any of you ever turn to dark music when you are down?