Admit it

[yukinoomoni]

 I was talking to LJ just now (thank you, BTW), and I made a decision that I feel is important to expand upon, when considering my issues concerning my health. Everything else, I'll just stick a pin in them for later. 
On New Year's Eve morning, after hours of trying to help me, Terry took me to the ER. I started to decline the night before (we got there at 0230), and I'm going to describe how bad it was for us. This could mean slight triggering material, so I would like everyone to read with the following triggers in mind: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, going into shock, ER and hospital conditions.
I'd been struggling with a severe flare-up, one that was worsened with the pressure point blocks I received the same day; we were hoping it would cease the flare-up. It didn't take, and I was in increased pain for two days after. I started tanking at around the morning of the 30th, and by 2100, I was done. I gave up. I just laid there, my eyes closed, feeling nothing but the pain and praying to fall asleep, or pass out, or die, anything. I was overcome with horrific hot flashes, so strong that Terry could feel my skin giving off the heat. He tried to cool me off, to help me sleep, but it failed. And he cried... a lot. After I fought him as best as I could, I surrendered to going to the ER, and kept praying I would pass out or die. I waited two-three hours to see a doctor (10/10 pain, slurred speak, no mobility, crying, disassociating). Two hours after that, I was given an anti-nauseant and pain medicine. It took the edge off, but before, again, I was awful, and made Terry cry. We stayed for one more round of pain meds, and the edge was finally softened enough to bring me home.
I still felt like shit, but... I've stopped showing it. Instead, I keep it inside, except when alone, because I am sick and tired of making him cry, or being cruel to him because I'm in pain he cannot fix, and it's not his fault. It's like I see myself being cruel, and I hate it, but it still comes out. So, for the past week, I've said nothing about the pain I'm in. And you know what? It's better. It's way better. He doesn't stress so much, doesn't hover, doesn't act like my servant or slave... things are happy between us, right now, because he doesn't know why I can't eat much, anymore, or why I've been isolating myself, all of it. I don't want him to ever know. Because I want him to see me, and not see IV bags and blood vials and me looking ready to die...
It's something I'm doing with everyone else, too, pretty much. Clearly, my cover is now blown with this post, but the people I'm sparing won't ever see this, and I'm glad they won't. Like I said before: what right do I have to pile my problems on others, especially people younger than me? None. So I've stopped. I can't do it anymore. I'm so tired of hurting everyone with my pain, when it's MY pain. I need to grow up and move on, or it'll be letting it kill me. And yet again, I'd rather be dead than keep mooching and leeching off of people I love, especially Terry. I don't want our marriage to end thanks to my health problems. It's better to lie. 
I'm sorry. I just don't know how to say this. I just want people to be happy. I regret being so open in the past, hell, even right now, and yes, this makes me a hypocrite. But at the same time, after this post, if I make any related posts, I promise, they will be private. Or maybe I'll just go back to pen and ink.
Tl;dr: the pain isn't going away; I need to grow up and accept it, and I'm not gonna force people I love to deal with it, anymore. Starting right after I post this post.

Comments

[ljwrites]

That must be terrifying, and my heart goes out to both of you. I'm very sorry it came to the point where it seems there is nothing to be done and the best you can do is keep the pain private. Are you part of a mutual support group or some other network for chronic pain sufferers? I think it may be healthier to have people you can be heard by and empathized with, and perhaps they should be people who understand (some of) what you're going through and won't feel saddened by or responsible for your condition.

[yukinoomoni]

I did try those kinds of group meetings (paid for it too), but I never said anything, really. I felt like, compared to them, my pain didn't matter as much, and I didn't feel comfortable talking about it, because it seemed meaningless to.

[ljwrites]

I'm sorry it didn't work out for you. I hope you can find a space where you feel worthy of being supported and heard.

[gndrneutralnoun]

You know what will really ruin your marriage with Terry? Not telling him things. He worries because he cares, and because he cares, when you lose the ability to hide the pain you're in, it will only hurt him more because it will tell him you didn't trust him. I really hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I have to say this, because you've been such an incredible friend and I hate knowing you're in pain- but even more than that, I can't stand NOT knowing, and suspecting that you're hiding your pain, because that's exactly the kind of thing you'd do, as you've proven. And if I, some random kid on the internet, feel that way about this, then how will Terry feel, once he finds out? I've had to hide many, many things from my parents, for my own benefit, and let me tell you; firstly, I'm great at lying, but I hate it. It wears at your soul. Second, the people who care will ALWAYS find out you're hiding something. My parents may be awful, but they do care. They may not listen when I say it hurts, and that may be literally all I've ever wanted from them- or at least SOMEONE- but they try their damnedest, and the people who care always will. You can't get better on your own. Terry listens to you. Use that to get help, and get better, because your life and happiness is worth it. Even if you don't believe it for yourself, then trust me when I say that even the things you see as inconsequential- like your wonderful stories- mean so much, at the very least to me. For them, I'd give you the world if I had it.

I regret not checking this status earlier. And I hate that you're probably going to take all of this in the worst possible way. But if there's even a chance that this will make you realize what bullshit it is to close yourself off and "just grow up", then I'm going to take it, even if you hate me for it. So please, stop this and take care of yourself. For me, if not for yourself.

[yukinoomoni]

I did tell him once that I think it's time for me to consider being admitted as a psychiatric inpatient at the hospital near us, but he lost it. I'd never seen him so upset, not in a while, anyway. He got so angry with me, when all I wanted to do was get help and give him a break. All I want to do is spare everyone and give them a break.
I'm too stupid because I don't understand why it's so horrible to be the friend that everyone can count on not to upset them. I know I upset everyone. I know when I express my frustration, I cannot do so without someone else blaming themself, and I don't know why. I don't know why I bring such a reaction from people I care about and love, whom I wish to be happy. Why do they take responsibility for my emotions, especially when they're so much younger than me (I'm sorry but it's true, even if I disagree with a lot of it personally), when my emotions are my own problem? I don't mind if people come to be that way. I try to help as best as I can, and sometimes I fail. And then they again blame themself for it, and I don't understand, anymore. I'm too old but also very immature. I write novels but never of my own work. I make friends, but lose them very quickly. And it's because I whine and bitch. Nobody, least of all people younger than me, who are already handling so much more at one time, needs to know how pathetic my life truly is.
The only good thing about me is Terry, my cat, and I know how to sometimes write okay stories based on other people's work. I just hurt people when I befriend them. I need to think for them, and not always me. Just because I'm lonely doesn't mean I have any right to treat all of you, including you, the way I do, save in nice ways.

[gndrneutralnoun]

Tara, please don't be like this. Hiding your suffering will only make you get worse, and then you won't be able to make anyone happy. And I take responsibility because I care about you, and I don't want you to hurt. I'd rather lose contact with you if it meant you were happy, and I'd do anything within my power to make you see that you're worth it. You think you're a weight on society? I'm not even sixteen and I'm playing video games when I should be at school because I just don't have the ability to do what I need to do. I can't speak for anyone else, but I don't know what I'd do if you gave up. I just... I can't even think about what could happen, I scared to imagine what I would do. I've already done things I regret, things I'll never forget, and it scares me that I have the potential to do it again. So please, give me some peace of mind and take care of yourself.

I've somehow managed to make this about me when it should be about you, and I hate myself for that. But I'm not going to hide how much this upsets me. I know you deserve better than lies.

[yukinoomoni]

No. I don't want you to hate yourself for something you mean well, for something you're being honest about, even if it is personal about you. Good lord, Flamy, that's right: you're not yet sixteen and NOBODY SHOULD EXPECT YOU TO DO JACK OR SHIT FOR SOCIETY AT THAT AGE. Save maybe finding yourself, I mean. I know you feel ancient, and I don't blame you for that at all. And yes, sometimes personal comparison is needed in order to get someone to understand what you are trying to say. In actuality, that kind of thing makes me listen harder. When it's not about me, I want to listen. I want to try and figure this out with you. I want to exchange ideas, even if we can't come up with something right now, we can plan for when it's possible.
I don't presume to know how things have been with you, because I will first to admit that I have dropped all the balls when it comes to maintaining proper contact with you, and I'm ashamed of that. I don't like being so up my own cunt that I don't even see that I'm not the most important person in the world, and that others need help and love and care, too. And least of all do I want to be told what's wrong, but ignore it for sake of my own problems.
That's what I'm afraid of. And that's why I'm so certain that it's not good to talk about what's wrong with me. Because not saying anything makes people feel better. They don't have to have one extra worry on their back. I joke that I named myself The Burden, because that's how I am to people, but it's... not a joke. I chose that name on purpose. I knew what it mean when I did. Because that's how it feels.
I've said nothing about my pain today, and Terry has been so happy. He hasn't had to worry about me, or ask me my pain level, or do things for me. He can just enjoy his weekend without being a slave to his wife. Why isn't that good? Why isn't that okay? I'm here, talking about my problems, like I said I never would, and burdening you still, when I vowed to stop that, too. I'm so lousy that I can't even do that right.
I don't know what a friend is, Flamy! I don't! I don't know how to be one! I didn't know ages mattered so much, because I know I would never do that, and yet somehow people think I would, and do, and I want to die, because I never want you to think I would ever do that to you, but people say I do. And I know it's better to trust the word of a whistle blower over the one being accused. I have never, ever done that to any kid or teenager, ever. I barely did while a teenager myself, and I barely had a choice in most of it. I would kill myself, first. I will kill myself if the people I care about feel that way, feel I've done that to them, made them feel wrong. I don't want that.
I just want to make people happy. I'll never be able to accept my own, so why bother talking about it? Even this comment makes no sense, goes in tangents and circles... my grief is garbage, nonsense. It only hurts. I'm tired of hurting people. I can't do it anymore. But it's all I do. You, Nicky, Joyce, Terry... people I knew irl, people I lost online before getting to meet them... people who were my friends but whose lives improved once they'd cut me out, to the point of having their own fucking fandom.
I'm 34 and I've achieved only misery. I have no legacy, except the people who left before I could make them as crazy as me.
Why did he say no. Why won't he let me go to a ward? Why won't he accept that it's the only way? Why doesn't he want that time to himself, while I'm fixed, and return a better person?
I know you don't know. I don't expect anyone to, because even I don't know. All I know is, in my lifetime, sooner or later I end up alone, and it's my own damned fault.

[gndrneutralnoun]

I'm going to keep saying it until you accept it. Terry is only happy because he thinks you're feeling better. So feel better. Feel better for him, and for me. You're not going to feel better by giving up on yourself.

Fuck, I don't care what you have to tell yourself. I don't care what you think about it. I just want you to do what makes you happy, and for you to be healthy. Please tell me you'll do your best, please tell me you'll stay safe, please tell me you'll hold on. Please tell me you'll get help, real help, even if you have a psychiatrist visit you at home if that's what Terry wants, because it sounds to me more like he doesn't want to be without you.

If there is one thing I have learned in my short, yet impossibly long time on this planet, is that you can't stop asking for help. If you stop, the need for help doesn't go away. It just drags things out, making them tenser and tenser until they snap. And then they'll ask you, why didn't you prevent this, why didn't you say something? Because no one wants to see you hurt. So please, keep trying, keep asking. Please.

[yukinoomoni]

I dunno what to do anymore. I try to help myself, but fail. I try to help others, but fail. I'm a failure. I dunno what else there is for me to do, save give up. I don't want to give up. But the world seems to want me to. It doesn't matter, really. You don't have to worry about me. There are other people who need care and love more than I do, like Joyce. She's got it rough, and needs it more than me. So does Nicky; she also lost a family member. Like you, who deserves better love and care, period. Nothing is gonna happen to me, good or bad. It just... is. It just is. Please, don't focus on me. Don't worry about me. Don't think about me, save "that old lady who wrote me an okay fic, once". That's all I need. I promise.

[gndrneutralnoun]

But you're MORE than "that old lady who wrote me an awesome fic once". You're a person, and an awesome one at that. I care about what you need, but I also care about what you deserve, and it's better than giving up on yourself. Whatever you need to do, do it; just don't give up. Please.