The waiting drove me mad

I’m writing this to you on the 10 monthaversery of my operation.
I’ve spent a lot of that 10 months being sad, depressed, tired, lonely, anxious, upset, scared and tired (again).
I am progressing apparently, but from my perspective here in the twilight zone of recovery I’m standing still.


Source: From hell it came

I keep hoping that I’ll have my ‘lightbulb’ moment and wake up tomorrow feeling normal and energised and happy. But then did I ever feel like that anyway? Does ANYONE feel like that?

I said to himself yesterday that it feels like I’m not in real life, that life is happening to everyone else outside the window and I’m in some weird state of suspended animation existing alongside the real world.

I keep writing things down, keep talking about things and it isn’t making it go away any quicker, it just keeps the demons at bay a bit and makes each boring day a bit more bearable. I’ll tell you the truth. my day is boring, I do nothing. I sit around and watch things because watching things is the only thing that doesn’t make me a) tired b) panic c) frustrated or d) all of the above.

I don’t mean that I watch things in a stalker at the window kind of way

Me and my mad hair staring out the neighbours
I mean in a ‘I’m watching endless streams of shite on netflix’ kind of way but there is only so much tripe the brain can hold before it’s begging to roam out on the meadows again. But therein lies the problem, my brain cant roam on the meadows yet until it grows back its other leg and gets treated for mange. So we have to cope, cope with nothingness, with isolation, with loneliness, with frustration and boredom. Cope with it until the day comes that I can change the bedding without inducing a heart attack or go to the shops without a rope, crampons and kendal mint cake to keep my energy up.
These tiny things we all take for granted are as big as Everest for me at the moment. Yet I still don’t think people understand how poorly I was/am. Aileen Wuornos hairdos aside, I look ok so the natural reaction is that I am obviously ok.
I’m not though, I’m knackered.

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