Rats in the ceiling for that well-toasted feeling.

Long story, I suppose. Settle in with a chocolate liqueuer.

A few days ago, I had one of my periodic wobbles where I decide that everyone is pointless and interacting is nothing but a massive chore that injures me (And really, what DO we get from talking to each other?) I had a massive scrap on one of my forums- A forum that I’d semi-left a few months ago after a LOT of transphobia from a Good Feminist anyway -with someone who just wanted to attack some friends of mine for no good reason. I then had a further scrap on Twitter with someone who was being rampantly disablist, and insisting that she couldn’t be being a reactionary self-centred shitheel because she had EDS; Something which I, obviously, would never understand. Realising that there was no point in talking to anyone if I had to lead with my gender, sexuality and diagnosis to be listened to, since I prefer my arguments to be well-crafted and listened to on their merits, rather than istened to because I’m suitably oppressed, and gave up on Twitter as well – So I’ve basically cut contact with four years’ worth of good friends, this week, because they were too tightly wrapped up with the kind of selfrighteous point-scoring arseholes that I don’t want to have to deal with anymore.

Then Tuesday was CBT for pain – That thing I’ve been waiting for for more than a year. And it was, well, a bit useless. or at least, it looks like it’s going to be a bit useless. The problem is, it’s well set up for people who are scared of pain, and limited unreasonably by it, and not set up well for people who have mentally reclassified pain-that-doesn’t-damage-much as “Not pain” for the purposes of getting things done. I think I’m going to end up spending a few weeks reassuring the therapist that my coping strategies whilst in pain (Other than using self-harm as a painkiller; Explaining “Sometimes I dislocate a finger as a distraction from the pain in my hips” wasn’t fun) are basically fine. I’d forgotten how little I like talking therapies – I’d, naively, hoped that my “I don’t want to talk to people” instinct wasn’t going to carry over to talking to doctors. So, after an hour of talking about pain and trying to teach that there was a difference between “I can’t do this, it hurts” and “I can’t do this, it’s unsafe” (I think she’s going to try to counsel me towards going out more, regardless of the consequences. I know that that means spending a lot more time healing up big injuries than I really want to. This will be a fun conversation.) I got in a taxi and went to my best friend’s house for dinner and drinking.

By about 2am, my “I don’t want to be here and don’t want to talk to anyone” sense had expanded to include him, but being stuck there by the lack of transport and the snow, I decided to ignore it. All I wanted to do was go home to Dearest and sleep in silence. This is probably a good thing, since by 6am we’d had to ring 111 for the friend, then by 8 we were in an ambulance on our way to the LGI.

The hospital trip is basically his story, not mine, so other than that at around noon, after not having slept for 30 hours, I started to see rats skittering around the corridors, I shan’t say much more. Oh, I aso didn’t eat or drink anything other than a very small cup of tea with sugar in it for the whole day. And my “I hate everyone” meter has basically topped out. Other than writing on here, I’m not dealing with people other than Dearest.

We got home and slept for 19 hours. It was much needed.

Today, I’m wrecked – A day of following the trolley around, pretending to be ablebodied, and doing general packhorse work, has left me with a right hip that can’t take my weight, infrequent hallucinations that are really bothering me, the overpowering urge to self-harm and, unrelatedly, an overpowering urge to kill myself. I’m keeping them all in check by sniping people on musical instruments on Ebay.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow had better be better. In a couple of days, I might email/text/PM everyone that I’m bothered about, tell them what’s up, and see what happens. I know that I should want to talk to people. It’s just really, really hard.

3 thoughts on “Rats in the ceiling for that well-toasted feeling.

  1. I am so sorry to hear you are having such a tough time. And I do understand that you don’t necessarily want to talk. But you have been heard.
    I got so bad last week that i bought goodbye presents for foal and mrsinky so they would have something to remember me by.
    I am papering over the cracks.
    When you want to talk, you know where, and what i am.
    I hope your friend is ok.

  2. Thank you, both.

    Dearest is home, we’re watching Black Books and I’m thinking safe thoughts.

    Hope to be back to normal and ready to really talk soon. You’re both the good ones.

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