Ok, people, I’m back. I scrapped it out with the 7th Deadly Sin; I’m bloody, I’m battered, but I’m back. And hey, I don’t even need war paint because my moon face scared it off for me. It’s a joke, people. Self-deprecating humour helps people relate… ok, FINE.
I won’t lie to you folks. This has been a rough week. I have been on the very edge of falling into the darkness; the deep, dark depression, that I’ve only truly felt once, in Toronto 8 years ago, at the height of my painful (and unmedicated) arthritic symptoms. I felt the dark clouds come over me again a few months later when I was first diagnosed and again two years ago when I was forced to move back into my childhood home in order to recover from almost dying of anaphylactic shock, but the memory of that first time kept me on the outer edges of darkness. I never fully fell in. The day I wrote my last post, I almost fell. I was so close I could feel the wet, cold chill of the darkness, like it’s hands came out like waves upon a shore, licking at my feet . I censored my post to make it sound like I was more upset about the moon face thing, which I truly am, but it was a bit more serious than that. I don’t mean to deceive you, my dear friends, but you can understand that I didn’t want to worry you to that extent. I knew that it would pass. I just needed time, which is why I took a short break from writing here. Now that I am “back” and I told the creepy depression wave thingies to screw off, I thought that it was okay for me to clarify things. My keepers may be surprised to hear that I have felt depression to this extent. I must admit that I am surprised too. I haven’t, until this very moment, allowed myself to really think about it.
To make matters worse, while trying to tap dance around depression’s grody fingers, I have also been ON FIRE. Literally, ON FIRE. And I knew I would be. I knew since last week. I knew that this week I would be really really really really really pissed off. I spent all of last week mentally preparing for it. And sure enough, this past Monday came around and yup… TOTALLY PISSED. “Chipper” took a holiday for the entire first half of the week. She’s shown up for some short-lived good times since then (I’ve decided that Chipper is indeed a female – this makes Chester (male) very happy), but she’s been largely pushed back by evil, fiery Elena. We have no creative name for her yet. She’s definitely not a cartoon monkey like 10 year old Elena and costochondritis – she actually looks very human and very much like me. I’ve called her “the devil” the last couple days, but I don’t think that even that’s entirely accurate. I will definitely take suggestions. And where have I been while all this is happening? Where I always am; even further back, behind a locked door, in a plastic patio chair, “watching.” I used this metaphor of the plastic chair while talking to one of my keepers today. I said, “I don’t even get a cushion. Yah. My ass really hurts.” I use the term “I” loosely these days. There are so many Elenas and monkeys running around, I don’t know who’s who anymore. Try to find Waldo in THIS morbid scene… I’ll even wear the hat to help you out. For those younger/confused readers out there, that was a clever reference to the “Where’s Waldo” picture books of old… or maybe kids still “read” those…
Getting back to fiery, evil Elena or whatever her name is, I’ve always known that she’s existed. She’s been inside of me for a long time. She’s never come out full force, though. Even now, in my manic state, I have been able to hold her back from revealing her true power. I have to. My parents are strong people, the strongest actually, but I don’t think that even they could handle her in her true form. I am not one to show my true anger often. It usually trickles out of me in modified forms, most often in crankiness and bitchy comments, but I don’t think I can remember a time where I truly lost it on someone. And believe me people, YOU DO NOT WANT THAT TO HAPPEN. I’ve said that many times to people in the past and everyone has the same reaction. Disbelief. “Sweet, smiley Elena would NEVER get THAT mad at anyone.” Seriously, people, for the first time I am actually face to face with her, inches away from her fiery face and even I am surprised at her power. “I” who is “she.” Absurd, isn’t it? Yah. What isn’t these days?
I did, however, allow myself to give into the anger today. I let it consume me. I let it take me over during a conversation with one of my keepers… my Master Keeper actually. There’s a reason why he’s the Master Keeper, so don’t worry about him. He can take it and it wasn’t directed at him at all. And even with him, I kept a lot of it in check because when I really wanted to scream and yell it all out, I kept it to an intense whisper for his benefit and for my parents’ who were in the next room. I don’t know how to fully explain how it felt to give into the fire. I felt more powerful than I have ever felt in my entire life, but also the weakest I have ever felt. It was invigorating and yet filled me with shame to have to go there, to have to give in. I have to tell you that I feel like there is so much fire in me, that I feel so “powerful” right now that I fully believe, that if I wanted to, I could really physically hurt someone. Yes, even in the frail state my body is in, I think I could definitely f*** someone up. And yes, I just censored that swear. I might not be working right now, but I am still a role model. So, kids, swearing for the sake of swearing or using it to describe someone or a lewd act is not good, but there are times where the F word is the only suitable word to describe certain intense feelings of frustration or in this case, what would happen to someone if I physically attacked them right now. Cool? Cool. I know that there are those looks of disbelief happening out there in regards to my last statement (about f***ing someone up, not the other thing) and fine, don’t believe me. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I realize now, after moving away from the edge of darkness, that I have the power to control that. So, I guess in the end you are right. I could… but I never would. Well, as long as I am still present, here in my plastic chair. The chair was empty in the hospital for a while, remember? Unfortunately, I don’t have any control of what happens then. Don’t worry, I’ve gone to a lawyer regarding power of attorney and a living will in case it does. My parents will know what to do. They are cool like that.
So ANYWAY, that got me thinking about X-MEN, another set of stories that I find highly enjoyable. I used to steal my brother’s X-Men comics and read them secretly in the bathroom. Storm was immediately my favourite female mutant. Makes sense, right? She’s the ethnic one in the group, she’s hot, she controls the freaking weather. Pure awesomeness. Although I had a realization today that I have actually been more drawn to her best friend, Jean Grey, the powerful mutant with telepathic and telekinetic powers that transforms into the dangerous and even more powerful Phoenix. Now, I am by no means comparing myself physically to Famke Janssen, the gorgeous actress who plays her in the movies or even Jean Grey, the original comic doodle herself. I know I’m no Halle Berry, but I could at least pull off the ethnic part of her to some extent. I find it funny that once again, the metaphor of Jean’s inner struggle with The Phoenix (shown in the pic I attached to the beginning of this post), fits perfectly with the fiery struggle I am having with the Elenas running around in my head, just as the LOTR metaphor fit and the Jesus one fit, etc. Even the fact that as The Phoenix, Jean was able to resurrect herself after death fits. We all know that I shouldn’t be alive or present right now. I’ve been on the brink of death twice, the 2nd time the doctors basically told my mom it was over and this last time, my whole consciousness/being left my body entirely. And yet “I” am here. So, who is The Phoenix really? Is it “me?” Will my ending be different then Jean’s? Will I have the strength to harness the dark and fiery power of The Phoenix? For those of you who don’t know, Jean gains control from The Phoenix long enough to sacrifice herself (well, in the movies anyway, the comics drag it on into other less interesting stories later on) in order to save her fellow X-Men. She knew the only way to end the pain and suffering caused by The Phoenix was to end her own life, thus ending The Phoenix’s life. Sad, isn’t it? Well, don’t be too sad about it. The cute little cartoon cactus has left the building, remember? I have a strong feeling that my ending will involve Jean Grey not only surviving, but gaining a new power… perhaps fireballs that form at her palms?
We will get back to fascinating brain stuff and more medical/physical stuff this upcoming week, I promise. Yes, I know the emotional/mental stuff is important too, but I have neglected the other side of it a little too long. I haven’t written in my symptom journal for almost two weeks. I am still only averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night and that’s an improvement from when I was only getting an hour and a half. Being awake 20 hours everyday is quite the switch from my “normal” day as a Lupie: Wake up, work, come home, nap for 2 – 4 hours, get up to eat, go back to sleep, repeat (and that’s when work actually ended at 430 and there was nothing scheduled in the evening… so okay, I guess those days wouldn’t happen too often). I rejoice when I am actually able to nap these days. Although today was a different kind of day. I felt more physically exhausted than mentally exhausted for the first time since being in the hospital. Again, it shouldn’t feel strange to me, because that’s my “normal” state. I feel my inflammation sitting on the inside of my skin, ever present. The drugs provide this invisible barrier, but I always feel the pain to some degree, I always feel the inflammation’s presence. Yes, I can finally reach the bottom of every breath and sleep lying down, but when I gently touch the front and sides of my rib cage with my fingers, my skin cries out with tenderness and pain. And even my joint pain, which I believed was being effectively controlled by the steroids, is ever present. My acupuncturist was examining my legs and said, “Oh, your knees are swollen.” I looked down in surprise and said, “Oh really? I don’t even feel that.” I was actually a little annoyed at him for mentioning it. My knees hurt all day after that. It’s funny what happens when you are used to experiencing an 8 -12 pain level everyday. I guess after a while your mind doesn’t even bother registering anything below 5. Well, I guess I can at least by grateful to my brain for that. So to sum it up, I guess I could say that it’s all an illusion. The brain stuff, that the inflammation is “gone”… it’s all an illusion. So, let’s figure out what’s real people and get this party started. I have a lot of stuff that needs to get done, so let’s get me better, shall we?