A Box of Crayola Crayons

Pain really colors one’s world, and not in a good ‘box of Crayola Crayons’ kind of way.

I made this comment to a friend of mine today and it upset my friend greatly. That was not my intent and I'm sorry. Their upset reaction to my statement did reinforce something I learned from Jenne over the weekend. That is that my pain – either from the battle of the bulge, or from my ACM, which thankfully has not been acting up – is also very frustrating to those around me – loved ones, friends, my readers - because there is practically nothing they can do to physically relieve it for me and hence they have a frustrating, and oft aggravating feeling of helplessness.

I hate feeling helpless too, so I truly understand where they are coming from. I don’t want to talk about the pain much, at least that’s what I tell myself; however there is sometimes a need to voice my own personal frustration, aggravation and anger about it. If I can’t talk to my loved ones, friends and readers then I am lost and have no one to turn to and it gets repressed and then I end up with more psychological problems and then it’s off to a shrink and they’ll just throw more meds at it. Look, I realize just as you all do that there is practically nothing you can do to help ease my physical pain. However the mental pain I experience because of the physical pain can find relief just by having someone listen from time to time and maybe giving me a free hug or a cuddle. I’ll settle for a kind and loving ear though. I’m not trying to burden anyone else with this. It’s enough of a burden for me and it really just fucks up my day almost everyday. It’s been no joy ride for Jenne and my friends either. I want to do things and go places and participate in things – amusement parks, river rafting, wild parties – and I can’t. It pisses me off and aggravates me as much as it does them. More even. It's really aggravating when I have a few days or even a week that is pain free and then for no reason the pain is back. Didn't I just leave that party? I take care of myself, I don't lift anything, I rest my back and think that this time being pain free in the back is going to be permanent. Wrong. Chronic pain is fucking maddening. It turns little frustrations into huge issues. It affects how I interact with others. It colors my responses to daily things and makes regular activities difficult and sometimes impossible. It makes concentrating on the job at hand a challenge. It makes dealing with stupidity extremely difficult and it makes dealing with ass-hats and ass-clowns impossible. It's immediate nuclear meltdown with 'those people'. Sometimes my only response to questions is, "whatever... I don't care, do what you want" because all I can feel is the pain. It makes it hard to smile. It comes as no surprise to me that people with chronic pain fall into excessive alcohol and drug use and sometimes suicide. Now don’t freak out because I used the “S” word. That is not on my mind. I just have an understanding of why people in pain go down certain tragic paths. What I need and what helps is a friendly and supportive ear from time to time. Jeez… I just feel like I have fewer people to turn to. Just keep my mouth shut and smile and the world smiles back. Hey I want a happy shiny world full of happy shiny people too! The other thing is that I am not going to lie when I am asked how I am feeling. If I am hurting and I say that I am fine then there’s an expectation that I can participate in things when I most likely can not. The question, “how are you today?” or “how are you feeling?” is no longer a genuine question of concern from a majority of people. A long time ago it turned into a bit of small talk banter where the expected answer back is, “feeling fine, and you?” I would rather just have someone say, “hello Will. It’s nice to see you today” and I would reply with, “hello YourNameHere! It’s nice to see you too.” That would be a truth. I know my loved ones, friends and my readers are genuinely concerned and expect an honest answer. But if people really don’t want to hear how I am feeling - or how anyone is really feeling - at any given moment then don’t ask. Leave it alone, especially if the expected answer is, “fine” because they obviously don’t want or can’t handle the truth. They want the truth? They can't handle the truth. No truth-handler, they. Bah! I deride their truth-handling abilities.

Now I am going to go and get a box of Crayola Crayons and go color in a fun kind of way while floating on a Percocet. Maybe Bob would like to color with me, if only I could find Bob.

Well, I would go color and float on a Percocet, but I am staying in VA tonight and running a role playing game for a few friends. Can't really game master a RPG while being whacked on Percocet and I am not giving up gaming with my friends.