Hurting

written out and off
hurting, fearing each moment
hope has turned its back

©Jane Paterson Basil

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6 thoughts on “Hurting

    1. No. Usually when it gets bad I hide away – apart from forcing myself to walk around the block to ward off agoraphobia which I have been fighting (and winning against) since my mum died 11 years ago. But yesterday I had a dental appointment and the dentist was so kind that when I left I broke down. I got home to find a letter which contained an appointment from the mental health team. I know I’m in a bad way when every small act of kindness has me in tears. I rang my friend, who immediately offered to come round. I went to her instead. It’s a 15 minute walk but it felt like miles.
      After the serious talk we did some gardening, and then cheated at scrabble and laughed and shouted for the rest of the evening. It was great, but within five minutes of leaving a vision of one of the terrible moments of my life (45 years ago) appeared, briefly and without warning, in front of me. Then, when I turned off into a dark narrow lane, I had to suddenly stop, because the ground looked like a vertical wall in front of me. I began walking with my hands out in front of me, and then everything became normal again.
      Today I’m shaking, and afraid to leave the building. I’ll force myself to, but I realise I can’t avoid the pain and fear. I can only put it off for a while.

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      1. Are you talking to any of your health care team about the incident? I know exactly what you mean about being teary when someone does something kind for you. I’ve experienced that a lot myself this past year. I ached when you said within five minutes of leaving you were struggling again. Some people thing the answer to everything is to get out and have fun, me time. But the truth is, a lot of times those things are just bandages. Most of those issues we struggle with are hard work… {{{Jane}}}

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        1. Bandages are good. They give us support when we need it – time to gather our strength, although I don’t feel strong at the moment.
          I’ll be talking about last night’s weirdness when I visit the mental health care team. I suppose it would be to much to hope that they give me a nice comfy padded cell…
          I’ve been down the mental health road before, and been told that there is no help for me, but I believe that this time I have been referred to a more hefty wing of the service. This is a hospital appointment. I’m now on a higher rung of the loonie’s ladder.

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      2. Who in the world told you there was no help for you? Whoever it was they weren’t very professional or good at their job! Don’t you sit back and take that bull from them this time. Stress does WEIRD sh*t to people. Ruins your health. You’re probably dealing with PTSD at this point. More {{{Jane}}}

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        1. I think underfunding of our national health service is more to blame.
          Here’s how it works: I’m called into the consultation room, where I’m asked what the problem is, and what I would like done about it. The atmosphere is caring, but it’s made clear that there are a lot of other people on their knees who, unlike me, have no mental tools to help them cope. It’s worded carefully, and leaves me aware that if I insist on help I’ll be taking up the space of someone who needs help even more than I do. I walk away feeling guilty about leaving a puddle of salt water on the floor.
          I think – hope that I’ll get help this time.
          I’m not sure about PTSD. I had it years ago after my daughter Claire’s boyfriend died. I used to obsessively walk in circles repeating “It’s ok, it’s ok” over and over if I saw a coffin – or even an image of a coffin. I couldn’t control it. I went to a funeral with my mum, and as soon as I saw the coffin my feet were carrying me off to the carpark and I was repeating the phrase. I was so ashamed. Thank goodness I no longer do that.

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