For the past months, intractable insomnia has drastically diminished my ability to function. Circling the drain is the best I can do. My therapist encouraged me to address chronic back pain, which is compounding the sleep issue and overall unmanageability. I have avoided this for financial reasons.
This is absolutley a new low. I can live in sustained financial and emotional duress on little to no sleep. However, with incapacitating back pain made worse when seated or lying down— I. Lost. My shit. I AM NOT OK with 24/7 being awake and in pain.
I cracked- phoning Favorite-I wept: “I am going to say some shit to you that you are in no way equipped to handle. I need a fkn break from my body and mind. THIS cannot continue. I want to go to the ER and beg to just be put under. But I am afraid— terrified of waiting too long in an uncomfortable chair, surrounded by overstimulating overhead lighting while surrounded by people using speaker phones, before being strapped into a shitty cot in a taxing position, only to leave with a huge bill and with no answers or relief.” She listened like a champ, offering to bring me dinner or have me over. I visited and we(she) determined that me going to sleep that night, with whatever drugs it takes, was essential. Then, she raided her parents no longer used medications- for my pain mangement plan for the following day. This brought much needed laughter and hope. I have not used any of her parents painkillers-out of fear for the side effects.
That night 1.5mg of my expired clonazepam delivered 6.5 consecutive hours of sleep. Unconsciousness was brilliant and my back pain was eased from having rested. Ah- The gift of a new day rather than just a continuation of all the days which came before. With a recovered-ish mind and body, I enjoyed the endorphins of fervently and successfully facing down tasks which called for some level of executive function, unsure of when I might again benefit from the energy and clarity from a night of rest.
With my neurology, brain chemistry,and metabolism, I am made ill, almost immediately, by substances/medications used to sedate, calm or numb, or reduce pain– For me, vertigo and vomiting are 99% guaranteed.
Add to this my younger son’s 16th birthday last week- and a lack of resources to take him out to eat or do a special thing. No gift, no celebration, no photo. Horrifying evidence of my judgeable worhtlessness and joylessness. It is beyond painful and still true, that I can not provide more OR be different. And I fail entirely at masking the pain of this. AND – my younger sons’ birthday also marks a landmark betrayal and trauma (compliments of his father and my sister) from which I have not recovered and am also expected to “get over”.
So in true C-PTSD fashion–first the hardship, and then the ass kicking secondary feelings of shame over an existence which substantiates (by my family of origin’s code) that good people are happy, comfortable and rewarded. AND THE non-good and unworthy will face unhidable struggle and despair.
