Emotional.

Too much has happened in the last 8 months. Too much. I am at the point where everything is too much. I need a break, but even that would be too much. The stupid illness is wearing me down, more than before. Although I haven’t reached the really bad, almost writhing in pain pain, it’s been so heightened recently that it has left me destroyed. I find myself on the verge of tears, especially when I start to think is it going to end. Am I going to get a break from this soon? I am trapped by my own body. I am being held to ransom by it. It is just so ……I don’t know, I don’t know.

I FEEL SO ALONE.

Today we were up early, for the little jaunt to the markets, it was nice, but to be honest, although we had a successful day, by the time we got home at lunchtime, I had fallen into despair. A not real taxing drive, and a little wander around an old WW2  Aircraft hangar where the markets were held had done me in.

I know that Mum notices that I am not coping well. I am so wiped out, and my enthusiasm is waning. I just want to have a decent sleep, have no pain, and feel good, even if just for a couple of days. I feel lost, I feel lonely.

It’s not depression I feel. I am prone to it, I know it, it is an awful companion in my life at times. This is just sort of like a Groundhog Day. Same shit, different day. It’s almost a desperation for it to just change. Right now, if I were to win the lottery, it would still be the same. Sure, right now I sit here writing with tears streaming down my face and I feel sorry for myself. I am allowed to.  It would be so nice if some lovely lady walked into my life, hugged me tight, and told me everything will be alright.

Anyhow, I can’t write anymore right now, I am going to retire to my cold bed, and not sleep properly again. I know.

Andy.

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All over the show, and other crap.

It’s really hard to keep a positive focus all the time, especially when you’ve hit about day 8 of a really bad patch with fibromyalgia. Add to that the 242 days since my father decided to tell us he hated us all on Jack’s Birthday, yeah, a real classy move that, and all the continuous crap to do with that since, and yeah, it’s fucking lovely. It was true, he still hates us, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t such an arsehole. The only consolation is that he hates everyone, and anyone who knows him, the feeling is likely mutual.

I try hard NOT to be my father. I think that that probably has irked him more than anything, seeing how Jack and I get along so well and what a fucking brilliant dad I am, and what a completely pathetic one he was, and still is. I certainly didn’t learn it from him, that’s for sure.

Yes, I am being really negative. I don’t really apologise. Right now, I don’t even think a holiday surrounded by beautiful women would fix me up. I am worn out, ground down, there really isn’t anything much left. I need a lucky break, but it just isn’t, and probably won’t happen. Can I just go to sleep and someone wake me when this shit is over ?

242 days ago, I was going to delete my Facebook account, and because it was glitchy that day, I didn’t get a chance. Yes, I actually hit the button to delete my account, but it didn’t work. Now, I am getting close to doing it again, starting a brand new one under an assumed name, and choosing who I want to remain friends with, people I KNOW I can trust not to pass crap on to people I want gone. Oh God, this post is all over the place, but I will keep going as is.

When I go through a spell as bad as this current bout of Fibromyalgia is, I get to the point where I get scared. The main thing is I get scared about if it’s going to end. The longer they go, the worse it is. I really don’t know how I get through it. The pain and fatigue just grind away, until, well, I don’t know, it just gets so demoralising.  I don’t know if anyone understands. I just want to feel normal, what ever that is, for just a bit. It is so hard.

Don’t think I’m a snowflake. I’ve worked 18 hour days 7 days a week as a stockman, I’ve been kicked by horses and bulls, and just got back up and back into it. I have worked damned hard in my life, and barely complained. Broken bone, if it didn’t stop me I didn’t bother to go to the doctor, it’ll sort itself out. I’ve been stabbed, and just held the wound together and driven myself to hospital. I am pretty tough. But this cruel illness has stuffed me. My mother has it and she reckons the pain of a bad flare up is worse than child birth.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I used to be the person who everyone came to for answers, and I can’t find the answer. I’ve got to stop writing. I am alone, I don’t even have a loving caring partner to help me through this. No, I’ve got to stop, all I am doing is getting myself all upset and crying. This is how bad fibromyalgia is.

Andy.