One of your babies is having her first birthday soon. I haven’t met her and I’m sorry.
And it has nothing to do with you. Trust me, if I could click my fingers I would be squeezing your tiny one’s chubby legs and caressing their sweet heads in a heartbeat.
I haven’t forgotten about you. It’s actually quite the opposite. This guilt bothers me almost every day.
It’s just that this is where my anxiety has focused itself.
Anxiety is parasitic and I’m sorry girlfriends, but it’s landed on you.
You see, because of my chronic pain management I'm scared my painkillers will have me driving off the road. Trust me, I’ve tried to drive to you a few times. I wound up taking some very unsafe turn-offs (you know when you decide to exit left at the very last millisecond?) and I always wind up with a migraine from the tension of navigating those city roads. That tunnel scares me!
And so instead of trying to come up with an excuse that doesn’t involve that “pain” word, I just avoid it. I feel you must be SO sick of me talking about my chronic pain that I just shut down.
Having chronic pain can be so shameful. You don’t want to talk about it to the point where everyone is eye rolling before they’ve even approached you, but you also do need to be open enough so they can truly understand where you are coming from, and why you aren’t always there – or listening!
Yep I’m known to gaze off into the distance. I lose track of my thoughts. My head pounds while my painkillers send me off into la la land. Sometimes I’ve been known to write really gooey emails or Facebook posts while loaded up on my prescription pills, only to be distant and aggravated the next day.
I’m a moody bitch. I get terrible PMS. I have two small kids. And I’ve been in this pain for six years now. So things can get a little snappy around here. Actually a lot. The other day I told my psychologist that once I threw a packet of Corn Thins at the ceiling. We laughed. We both knew it could have been a lot worse, but I needed her to know that I truly CAN be rage-y.
Because, you see, my antidepressants don’t allow me to cry – and often instead have me on a little buzz – I find I have to convince her that I really do have demons.
And to my close friends I have here with me: I’m sorry I’m always the one to leave early on our girl’s nights out.
I just want you all to know that I love you so much and I hope you can just see through my struggle and take me for who I am. I have a good heart. I’m a sensitive soul. So weak in fact that if I ever hear a negative word said about me I’m usually straight at home with 2 x Valiums in my stomach and ice on my head.
So please know, if you haven’t heard from me it’s not because I don’t want to be in your presence.
It’s quite the opposite. I want you. I NEED you. I would love you to pop over for tea.
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