Inner dragon: HAWMC #8

With eyes closed, migraines form odd-shaped clouds, usually the brightest red or the darkest black. There may be a sky beyond them – leaden grey and uninviting. I let the waves of colour wash over me, pulsating, crashing and echoing against my skull. With the turn of each tide, I wait for the moment; the moment when the storming brain grows quiet.

I’m a right handed ”castaphobic”, so when I badly fractured my right wrist in 2009, I used creative visualization to watch the small, delicate bones knitting themselves together with tiny needles and wool. Each x-ray displayed the splendor of their work; when the cast was taken off, they stayed back in the shadows.

There are other phantasmagorical health–related experiences shaped by colour, creative imaging, or stories made when my head was buried by the sheets. Cautiously, I pull back the bedclothes a fraction of a fraction. I don’t know which I sense first – the smell of burnt toast, campfires and bb guns; or the deafening yet somehow melodic sound of scales being shaken, undulating like the wave at sporting events, or the large red-rimmed eyes catching every movement.

You see, a dragon lives in my abdomen. She likes to project herself as a holograph, a magic lantern show, Imax in 3D with my bedroom wall the screen. She does hibernate. Then, she occasionally shifts her position as she sleeps; shaking scales and tail; flexing wings while dreaming of flying. Awakened, she lashes with her tail, digs her talons in, and unfurls her wings.

I recently found one of my journals from 1982. There are images of six years of dragons, snippets of words not quite poetry, and wonderings. Twenty-five years on from her moving in, I find it hard to imagine life without her. She is a part of me; a strange symbiotic relationship.

Related articles

• HAWMC Day 21: Adversity (misdiagnosedme.wordpress.com)
• HAWMC Day 19: And that’s the was it was… (misdiagnosedme.wordpress.com)
• HAWMC Day14: spread the love (justanotherspoonie.wordpress.com)
• Day 15: Sharing #HAWMC (chronicchroniclesblog.wordpress.com)
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“once I was inspired; now I’m sad and tired”*

What follows is a litany of woes; so don’t feel the need to read and/or comment. I just needed to get it written down somewhere so it would stop playing in my head. If I were you, I’d just go read somebody else’s blog. It’s bound to be more uplifting, inspiring, better written, more coherent, and a better read.

I’ve been absent from the cyberverse both because using the computer creates more pain and because I have real world projects I must finish. One of these is to sell my mother’s house. Since I put it on the market 2 weeks ago, I’ve been invaded by ants (in three places), developed a new leak in the roof (this is after having another leak in the roof fixed) that drips down to the basement, and found out that the company my husband does contract work for has been sold; the buyer isn’t interested in contract employees, and he will be let go. So, it’s not a matter of if, but a matter of when.

So, what do I do about the stuff I was going to ship back home? We might not have a “back home” in the near future. And, to make matters more tentative, our landperson’s partner died suddenly in May; we don’t know which properties, if any, she’ll keep (we live in her backyard); in the past, she has said not to worry about rent if hubby lost his job; but that was before her partner’s death.

Meanwhile, I’m still trying to pack up stuff to put in storage, get someone to haul away to the dump what’s left over from the yard sales, find some place to give the better items, sell more of the furniture, “good” china, and crystal glasses. I’m having to store some items that I just don’t have the time or energy to try and sell on e-bay. I’ve been listing stuff on a free classified ads site with some success, but folks who swear they are coming for an item, or are going to call to settle on a price, never do. As a favo(u)r to the daughter of a friend of my mother’s (who kept coming around even though my mother didn’t encourage company), I agreed to sell quite a few items (that remain here for now) at a very reasonable price. However, she hasn’t been forthcoming with the agreed upon deposit, and I’m worried I’ll be left with a lot of furniture (that I could have sold a couple of times already) I’ll have to pay to have hauled away if the house ever sells.

I’m stuck here, with prescriptions running out, doctors’ and dentist appointments long overdue. Until I get the house cleared out, I can’t leave the place in the hands of the agent and lawyer to sell. And that is taking far longer than I had hoped. A friend finally took the 20 + boxes of books that I couldn’t even give away. I found a regimental museum that will take a lot of the stuff from my father’s military career. Unfortunately, the 2004/5 basement flood and my mother’s indiscriminate purging (without telling me) means that a lot has been destroyed, lost, or tossed out.

A combo of meds, emotional eating, elimination diets, 24 hours on/24 hours off wake/bed patterns, and stomach issues all became the perfect weight-gain storm. I weight more than I’ve ever weighed – even more than when I started Weight Watchers in the 1970s. I was gaining around 2 pounds a week for several months. I’m almost off the two drugs I think contributed to the problem, which also means I’m almost off antidepressants. That is not a pretty sight. And, when self-image is part of the problem, then the weight gain is more than just having to buy larger and larger clothes so I can go outside the house. My waist, at times, has distended to 40+ inches between the weight gain (that makes me look pregnant) and the IBS bloating. I’m retaining water (or something) as my ankles, wrists, face, and fingers are always swollen. (Only used to happen in the heat, and then it was just my fingers.)

My pain levels have been high; always hurting my neck packing and moving boxes. The cramps in my abdomen have me doubled over. Nausea has me eating bread (if it’s an acid stomach nausea), taking gravol/dramamine, and lying very, very still. I’ve been getting migraines, and my migraine meds are limited. I had one the other weekend that lasted several days. I tried to keep hydrated, and taking my regular meds, but nothing would stay down for a couple of days. Finally, gradually, I was able to drink water and take meds. (The last really bad migraine had me in the ER all spaced out due to dehydration and not being able to keep my pills down and the pain, too.)

In general, friends here haven’t been as helpful or encouraging as I thought they would. I’m basically doing this all on my own; my requests for help didn’t generate much in the way of assistance. And, the women I thought were my friends here have been avoiding me. (I must have offended them; there was a mix-up over something that was my mother’s that one wanted before I realized that was the item that hubby wanted us to keep. And, I think I’d promised the snow blower to one person first; maybe I got that backward, but that’s for them to work out.)

I realize they adopted my mother, not me, but now they are very aloof, and haven’t been extending invitations to any of their gatherings or inquiring if I needed help, a break, a conversation. I’ve suggested several times that they come and take a look at what’s left over from the yard sale that they can have for free. No response. Another friend is in a new relationship, so assistance is crammed into a couple of hours so they can get back home. I don’t blame them; it’s just I can’t do things speedily anymore. I need time to think and plan. And, it also means I’m going to have to spend more money I haven’t got getting boxes over to the storage facility.

Because I’m trying not to use the computer too much, I’m out of touch with the cyberverse and cyberfriends. Groups I participated in have moved along to other topics, other issues, other members. I don’t feel quite like I belong there anymore. The cyberverse moves too fast for me; though I try and leave the occasional comment here and there. Folks have their blogging buddies; their lives have moved forward; mine has stalled. I feel so out of sync and step. Feeling like I don’t much fit into the virtual and/or real world right now.

So,

I tired.

I’m tired of crying.

I’m tired of the pain.

I’m tired of being overwhelmed.

I’m tired of dealing with last 20 years.

I’m tired of being lonely.

I’m tired of always being on the outside.

I’m tired of not fitting in.

I’m tired of depression.

I’m tired of trying.

I’m tired of watching what I eat.

I’m tired of being tired.

I’m tired of being me.

*Gethsemane (I Only Wanted To Say) from Jesus Christ Superstar