October 28, 2018
After reading last week’s entry, my therapist thought I should focus on trying to remember the event. I didn’t really want to, but he said that I may be able to get ahead of any fears created by the trauma if I faced all of the facts earlier in the process. He told me to use meditation and said that I didn’t need to cross my legs and do the upside-down okay sign to meditate. I didn’t know that any position would change the results of an attempted meditation. I thought meditation didn’t really work, until now. I found that it does work if I can clear my mind from the pain and the noises around me. That’s one of the downfalls of living in a condo, you can hear the neighbors above you when they get into yelling matches. One time I meditated and found that I could see myself on the boat as it cruised across the water. I wanted to reach out and warn Hank that he should slow down. I actually think I did. I enjoy speed, but I think there is some innate sense of when you’re going too fast. I reached for his shoulder, and it felt tense like he was worried about the speed himself but didn’t make any attempts to correct it. I haven’t made it past that part yet. I don’t know if I want to make it past that part because every time I reach that point my head begins to throb and I scramble for my pain meds.
I can see the promise of empty pain pill bottles will arrive soon. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, but I still live every day in pain. I can adjust a little bit more in bed on my own now. That’s nice because I haven’t really been able to fight the weight gain of a sedentary lifestyle. My mom ensures that I am well fed. She always mentions something about taking food with my medicine, so it doesn’t eat away my stomach lining. I don’t think the people who made the drugs considered fast food as the best pairing for the medicines. It feels like I’m trying to pair White Zinfandel wine with Lunchables. It doesn’t make me feel the best at times. I admit that since I needed to quit my job with Double Scoop Deli, a small Italian restaurant, I don’t earn anything to sustain myself. Parents really do sacrifice a lot for their kids, but my mom seems happy to do it. I need to just ask my mom for her to refill my pills but I don’t want her to worry because of how much pain I am in.
I jumped online to play Gears of War today, and one of my teammates told me about this crazy Halloween party they had last night. The guy got a bartender, fog machines, strobe lights, and all sorts of shit to make the party awesome. Apparently, the night ended well for him. I knew he was bragging a lot, but since my life exists inside my mom’s condo at the moment, I find my escape in other’s stories. I don’t even care if they exaggerate or lie about what really happened. Obviously, I won’t tell my mom about the conversation, but it was nice to feel like I enjoyed a good bro chat with someone. My conversations with my mom just don’t seem to satisfy my need for connection.
A SL and PoS post.