Yesterday was a good day. I slept decently, vacuumed, went to the store and went visiting, all of which I did happily and in a minimal degree of pain. I sang, I danced around and I smiled. I think that the last time I had a day like that I was in my early teens.
Today however, is the polar opposite. I am nearing my threshold for pain tolerance, edging closer and closer to the breaking point. I think that I have multiple subluxated ribs and can’t take a deep breath in or bend over. The pain that it’s causing is nearly jaw breaking and I’m finding no relief in anything that I try to ease it with. My spine is radiating searing pain down to the tips of my toes and my head is throbbing so badly that I can actually see my pulse in my eyes and hear my teeth knock together in tune with it. I don’t think that this is payment for yesterday – save for my back which is very likely worse because of the vacuuming. If it were though, I’d take it – as hard as that is to swallow in all of my current misery. I mean, when was the last time that I could pinpoint a specific date and say that was a good day. This rough day however, will eventually pass and fade into a background littered with similar days. Only this time I will have the memory of yesterday to tide me over.
I desperately need support right now but I’m extremely snappy and irritable so instead I’ve been isolating myself to keep from hurting anyone that I care about with my anger. It’s nobody’s fault and I know that. It’s just one of those day where you feel like a fizzy drink that’s been shaken up – you need to blow the lid off and let some of the pressure out. You think that taking out all of your pain on someone might make you feel better – but I know that it never does. For now I’m holed up in my room, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists, just waiting for some kind of relief to find me.
“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter — they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.” ― Sylvia Plath