Double standards

Advanced warning: This is a pissed of uber annoyed post and will probably contain a fair bit of swearing. Oh what fun.

I am fucking fed up of your bloody double standards mrs oh so fucking perfect!
I was sick, from Thursday through to Wednesday. However, I did not moan, I got on with things. You had a right nark on with me on Sunday because it was mothers day and meant to be your day and yet I was being lazy. (It didnt matter to you that I felt absolutely rotten and it hurt to move or do anything) So I did what I could. I went to the cemetery even though all I wanted to do was curl up. Then when I sat down to recover for like 20mins you start kicking my possesions around 'because I shouldnt dare have anything of mine downstairs!' I was basically told to suck it up and get on with things when I was unwell.

But then you pick up the same virus from me, as does my niece. My niece, like me gets on with it and dosnt make a fuss. But you get, and its the end of the fucking world! You had to go to bed very early, then bring in a clear basin that you puked in to show me how sick you was. (Yes at the time I was still throwing up myself but I didnt bother taking the time to show you... mhmm why did i do this? maybe because im not a sick twat!)

So then you lie on the couch all day and cant possibly move, not even to get your own drink (Bear in mind if the illness progresses the same, this is the day I was being told off for not doing enough) Then in the evening you were offered food but said you would get something later. Then you go to bed in a sulk because dad didnt offer to make you something to eat later on!

All day you had go at me, that I didnt have to stress so much about getting dads tea done and stuff because he is perfectly capable of doing it himself. Then the next day when I didnt do much, you told me off because dad has been working all the hours and shouldnt have to come home and do anything in the house! Make up your bloody mind!

You tell me I am lazy and shouldnt sleep so much. And then when the doctor asks, you tell her that I need my sleep because my nights are disturbed. And oh joy, the doctor told you today that if oyu didnt begin to feel better by saturday to not go back to work. Gee thanks Dr. You know my mum, you know she will milk this for all its worth. So now it looks like I am going to have to put up with her all next week to as i bet she stays off.

Mum said something before in the car. And I mentioned that we had the same thing so it will probably run the same course and if anything hers should clear quicker than mine as she is healthier than and with a proper immune system. Her reply: But I have been much sicker than you. I just looked at her. And she started explaining about throwing up and such. I just said... oh right, I didnt have any of then? I must have dreamt it. Just because I dont bloody go on about it permanently dosnt mean I dont have.

Its like the other day when a doctor was going on about how high at risk I am from cancer due to my medications. We come out and mum goes, yeah your probably about the same risk as me now, because I got sunburn as kid!! FFS stop comparing, its not a bloody competition to see who is the fucking sickest. Because to be honest with you, you can be the sickest! You can take all my pills and go through all the surgeries and procedures and the trouble doing things and everything that goes with it!

Argh. Majorly pissed with her!

Oh and then she sees that I have just taken my bedding straight out the tumble dryer and am folding it and she starts having a go at me because its creased and its never creased when she does it. For one its bedding, I dont really care if its creased! And for 2, what the fuck am I suppossed to do? Iron it before I put it in the dryer then fold it up all nice and ask the dryer nicely not to toss it around to much. Fucking get over it loserhead!

Im on a slippery slope right now.  I gave up my 2 months free. I dont want to be free anymore. I miss the control and all the other feelings of release that come with it. Its funny, I was looking at pics earlier from a time when I was a mess and causing a pretty bad mess of myself. You can see my hand in one of them. With perfectly manicured nails all painted and shinny with the french tip. Good how you can be totally falling apart, yet on the outside, everything looks rosey. Time for a relapse I think. I still have it in me, I doubted it at one point but I know its still there.

Lonely

Im living upto my online name again. Im bitter and its becoming more and more prominent. 


Im lonely. Im fed up being alone in all senses of the word. Sure I have some great friends online, but that dosnt help the need when you just want to curl up with someone, or lean on some ones shoulder, to just sit with them and know they know what your thinking.


I mean im what 24 now. The last time I was in a relationship I was 16 and we all know how that ended. I know im damaged goods, but still 8 years, you would have thought I could have picked some desperate soul up.


Maybe Im not in the right place at the moment for a relationship, but you know it might have helped, just to curl up with some one, to cuddle, even if it was a friend. But no, I stopped talking to most of them. Couldnt stand the jealousy. Seeing them get engaged, buy houses, plan weddings, have kids, finish uni, get good jobs. And those I didnt push away purposely ran away screaming anyway. You only accept refusals to go out a certain amount of times before you stop asking. I just wasnt ready and now I cant cope with it. I see all my friends going to festivals, out with friends, generally having a laugh. And I sit in my room and watch from afar. Even if my physical stuff allowed me to go out, I wouldnt be up to it at the moment anyway.


It just hurts you know. Knowing that it is going to be like this for a while. I mean I know I desperately need to lose weight. Its just hard at the moment with all the meds and how hard it is to exercise and such. I know it could be far worse, but I am going to work on it.


But who wants to be with someone who wakes up several times a night feeling like they are drowning. Who has to put the light on and sit up for about 30 mins while they cough half their chest up. You know not exactly sexy is it. Plus the medical equipment in the bedroom, sure that must be a turn on. A suction machine all loaded up ready, a nebuliser, a draw unit full of medication and dressings and other fun medical stuff. And if I was ever to get to the point of actually sleeping with someone (breathing allowing of course) I would prolly need to ask them to wait a minute so I could get comfortable and dismantle myself. Take the hearing aids out, take off the glasses, clean my tubes so I can breathe. Oh and of course how can we forget the whole attractiveness of the body. The stomach that looks like a train map from too much surgery, the tube sticking out of my throat, the stretch marks on my arms and hips, the drain and line scars on my boobs and of course those lovely layers of parrell lines on my legs and arm. The lines that I love, the lines I crave to add to, my own version of surgery. My way of cutting out the bad, even if it dosnt last long. Oh how I miss that. 


You see self harm, was always my way company, my friend to turn to when things feel crap. It takes the pain away, its there in the dead of night when everyone else is sleeping, and it stays with you for a while afterwards, giving you that nice stinging feeling every time you move, just to remind you your not alone.


And psych declare me normal so I do just need to get over all this. Learn to move on. Move on with the fact that a true relationship isnt something that I am going to experience in this lifetime, no matter what.


The sooner I get used to the fact that Im not destined for a relationship, the sooner it will hurt less.

7 years!

So I meant to post yesterday, but didnt get around to it (naughty naughty) I dont know how I ran out of time as I didnt leave the hospital, although I did sleep a lot (nothing new there then)

Well anyway, yesterday marks 7 years since my transplant.
I read other peoples posts about how grateful they are for the turn around in there life and how much better they are since receiving there transplant. It makes me feel bitter as I dont feel that overwhelming feeling of gratefulness. I think I know why. Most people are very ill before their transplant and then they get the transplant and things get better for them.

Im the opposite. I wasnt ill before my transplant (I was stabbed) and since my transplant, I have been ill in one way or another for most the 7 years. Started off with all the normal after transplant stuff, infections (kidney, stomach, chest), then came my surgical stint when I had a hernia repair followed by a major op for an ovarian cyst and acute appendix followed by another hernia. Then throw in being diagnosed with hearing loss and needing hearing aids. Then all the mental health stuff that came running along (and is still ever present) and then the latest thing with my breathing being rubbish and needing a trachy. The last 7 years havnt been ones of getting better, they have been bloody hard years and I have the scars to prove it.

I dont know, I just feel like I should be more thankful for my transplant, but the fact of the matter is that there are days when i am not. There are days when I wish/pray that they hadnt saved me as dealing with everything else is just to damn much.

But I must be getting better. Usually around this time of year I beat myself up for not being grateful but I think perhaps im starting to analyze it and know why I feel this way. Maybe its the first steps towards acceptance. One can only hope.

And then another blow was dealt today. Last night, my voice started to go raspy. Today it is barley a whisper. Concerned I spoke to my surgeon this evening. His words, well i dont want to mess with that. Great, so im supposed to deal with having no voice?!? He mentioned the other day that my breathing being tight when I use the speaking valve is probably where my airway has collapsed above. I think the speaking is related. Im just really hoping that its not permeant.

I mean really, he said having a trachy would solve all my problems. That I would be able to do everything I could do before but my breathing would be better. Well it is no better, not really and now im losing my voice and then there is all the care of the trach that goes with it. Things are not better, there worse! And im trying to be hopeful and im trying to stay positive but it seems like such a waste when you keep getting dealt new blows.

And im still in hospital as they cant sort out the equipment I need to go home with. Oh well less stress without having to deal with all the christmas stuff I suppose. *sigh*
Will things get better? eventually? maybe?

Long way down

urgh I think I am coming down with something.
I slept in till 12 today and by 7 I was falling asleep on the sofa. IIt not like I have done anything today. I had dinner, showered and sat down trying to start my networking assignment. I kept getting distracted though and so didnt get very much done. I will attempt to do more tomorrow.

Feeling fairly low tonight to be honest. Lots of urges to cut my arms. Of course, I wont allow myself to cut my arms, cant risk more scars, there are already too many on my arms and I hate the way people look at them. Especially doctors when I get my blood pressure done or the phlebotomist when they draw blood. Someone male nurse asked me what the scars where off last time I was in ICU. I just looked at him an said Self Harm. He kinda gave me an odd look and went ok and walked off. It was actully fairly amusing to see his reaction.

Im resisting urges to go look at pictures of self harm. When im in this type of mood I often find myself looking at pictures, comparing my level of damage to what others do. I would say I cut my legs fairly deep to most people, but my arms are pretty clean. I dont know what it is, but slit wrists just look so pretty.

I dont know if its the risk to life, the blood, the wound what, I dont know they just look good to me. ha with a mind set like this I really shouldnt be coming of the psych meds. But I dont get a choice in that do I. Of course my Blood pressure is more important. Part of me is saying good to coming off them, to see how low I can get again, see if I have the courage this time to end it all properly. To gain some new decent scars as mine are all fading. But I also know that it would mess up uni again. Not to mention I dont think my family would stand by me to fall apart again.

Ive done the whole psych ward thing, I dont need to do it again. Oh well. See the doc a week on Friday, see what she says.