These are my thoughts. They are not meant to make sense. They are my echo into the woods. I am the tree that falls, and it is here that I make a sound.
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Thursday, July 28, 2005


I was able to find a way to articulate some of what happened yesterday to Rob.

His response was that this is a bump in the road and I just have to fight through it.

I'm trying.

He also said that when I see this doctor in September for a second opinion, to mention it.

I'll try to remember.

What did happen yesterday? Sitting at my desk and having images insert themselves into my consciousness, images of me playing in vast quantities my own blood the way a child would make a mud puddle (my blood was thick, my skin flayed open along my forearm for ease of access). unable to be with people I knew (who would require conversation) but unable to be alone, I went to the mall at lunch, and found I was extremely paranoid. That man walking by smiling in my direction was laughing at me and the fact that my grilled veggie sandwich was spicier than expected, that woman at the kiosk I wouldn't visit even when she called me thinks I'm a fat cow and is talking to her next potential customer about me, that dump truck driver know how incompetent I am and is reaching for his radio to tell his work mates.

Just a few examples.

When I left the mall, I sat in my car in the parking lot for 15 minutes playing with my very very dull swiss army knife. I keep it deliberately dull. I end up reaching for it at times like these, not because I want to die or anything, but the discomfort of the constant pressure of the knife tip into my arm helps me stay in the present, helps keep my mind from falling away further. See, when I'm in a state like I was (and I can still feel it sitting at the edge of my consciousness right now, waiting for my guard to drop, which it might during the stress of work, but I'm going to try and fight it), but when I'm in that state, the paranoia, the imagery - those are evidence that my mind is starting to best describe it so that a non-bp person will get the's evidence that my mind is slipping away from my control, that I'm losing grip on the one thing that should always be mine. I don't know how to describe how very scary that feeling is. So, I take this knife in my left hand and cup the hilt of it in such a manner that this very dull blade is parallel to my forearm and then as I move my wrist, I can exert the pressure downwards. I just then tilted my head back against the seat rest in the car and sat that way for about 15 minutes.

It usually doesn't break the skin, or rather, it doesn't cause bleeding usually. That's not my intention. It is like giving smelling salts to someone who has fainted - it's a wake up call to come back to rationality.

Even hockey last night was tainted.

By the end of the game things had improved somewhat - the kinetic energy of the game helps - but I was positive that while I was out on my shift skating around, the team was talking about how useless I am, and that when I was on the bench, they just couldn't wait til I was out again, not because I'm such a great player, rather, the opposite, how awful I am and then they could again talk about me and plan how they could ditch me.

By the end, thing, as I said, were a little better. I mentioned as much to Rob and Adam on the way home, who were kind enough to come out and watch me play. Later, after Adam went to bed, I used my usual hiding spot to talk to Rob without having to look him in the face and see either his disappointment or his worry: at bed when lights are out. I explained all that I explained above here, without the details of the blood (just said blood and destruction were popping into my brain all day, not as a result of any specific trigger, but just dropping in like a quarter in a pay phone). But I told him the paranoia. I didn't tell him about the knife. I've given him enough to worry about.

As I type this, he came in, grabbed my head with his hands on either sides by my ears and give me a big "smack" of a kiss on the top of my head. Then he asked if I was feeling any better. I said a little. I do, a little. And I don't think I have the focus right now to lie convincingly enough to say otherwise. Then he asked if I was going to be okay for tonight: he's taking Adam and I to the Blue jays baseball game.

I said to buy the tickets, I'll be fine.

So I've got to get myself together by then.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Blogger The Geefos said...
I know that feeling of wanting something to hold you in this realm where other people get to live all the time, but we only to get visit in fleeting moments of clarity.

I make a fist and dig my nails into the palm of my hand. I rarley break the skin, but it keeps me from losing it in times when I simply can't afford it.

Hang in there. Enjoy the peanuts and cotton candy at the game.  

Blogger moodymicello said...
I can remember when work became almost impossible for me to deal with right before my diagnosis. The stress is triggering those hallucinations and the feeling that you are about to lose your grip on realitiyl You need to let go og something and ease your stress load. As is always true... you're likely trying to do too much. And about all those people that are looking at you... remember, you don't give a DAMN what they think! Now smile and
hang in there. We're all with you
while you ride this one out. Be
honest with the doc when you see him in September and tell him how
you dealt with it. I'm pulling for
you. Michele  

Anonymous Anonymous said...
I can so relate to your feeling your mind slipping out of your control. You describe it so accurately - paranoia, omigod I have SO been there, irrational thought, you are a very good describer.  

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