Follow @stuckinscared Stuck In Scared: Depression
Showing posts with label Depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Depression. Show all posts

Thursday, 28 April 2016

She Shines Forth Brilliantly.

Lost in the dark, on the edge of hopelessness... she shines forth brilliantly... Quote. Poetry. #mentalhealth #mentalillness. #grief.

 Portrayed 
no semblance of truth 
Innermost 
Hidden from view 

Captured
in transient light
Blackness 
cloaked in sunny
                                              
Radiant
in a haze of darkness
apparent
out of sight

Foretimes
consuming the present
Caught between
Fade to black

***


Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x


Related Post: Cloaked in Sunny
Lost in the dark, on the edge of hopelessness... she shines forth brilliantly... Quote. Poetry. #mentalhealth #mentalillness. #grief.


Tuesday, 26 January 2016

Just-a-Quote #3 (#mentalillness)

Symptoms of Mental Illness are (usually) very well hidden... (Innermost hidden from view) | Quote | Mental illness | Mental Health | via @stuckinscared

"Symptoms of Mental Illness are (usually) very well hidden. Behind award winning smiles... 'I'm fine.' - 'I'm okay.' " ~ Kimmie 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x


Related Posts                                                                                                                                    
Cloaked in Sunny                                               I Am                                                                                                                                                     

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

STILL afraid... and the Line's STILL fine!

I originally wrote the following piece in 2013... I'm sharing it again today, edited only marginally, because almost 3 years on there is STILL no change for the better... Government are STILL ignoring campaigners... Disabled people (those who have survived the sustained attacks) are STILL afraid!

***

Writing about my life with mental illness really helps me, it’s cathartic to write my thoughts down.

I made the decision to share my muddled mind through this blog because I felt that sharing my experiences might help other sufferers (and me) feel less isolated.
I hope that by my telling it how it is someone somewhere will find some relief in reading. 

Having said that I do worry (a lot!) that being too honest about some of my mental health symptoms may do more harm than good and it’s for that reason I’m going to suggest that if you're feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment you don’t read any further into this post... 

A FINE LINE

still afraid... and the line is still fine. mental health. mental illness.

In recent years I’ve had various conversations with friends (some via social media, some face to face) who report an increase in self-harm, and/or suicidal-thoughts... and I've lost count of how many articles of same/similar I've read on line. 
One lady (heartbreakingly) confided that she is mentally making plans to re-home her pets because she feels suicidal and is concerned that she might act on these feelings, leaving her pets uncared for.  

Many of the people I've spoken to have complex mental health issues (some have physical disabilities too),  and they have told me that their increase (or onset) of self-harming behaviours/thoughts, and/or suicidal thoughts are directly related to fear of Government, DWP, and current or anticipated WCA (Work capability assessment).

Of course, I know from personal experience that paranoid fear, irrational thoughts and an inability to cope with change often go hand in hand with mental illness, however, given the relentless cuts to disability welfare and services, the Government/media propaganda, and the treatment that so many have endured at DWP assessments interrogations, it’s hardly surprising that so many sick/disabled people feel incredibly anxious at the moment.

People are desperately afraid, overwhelmed with fear. Many are deeply affected by right wing ‘scrounger’ propaganda and incredibly worried about their future. 
They’re terrified by even the idea of having to expose themselves (face to face) at a ten minute (tick box) assessment (to a complete stranger) who is unlikely to be qualified to assess mental illness and even less likely to empathise. They are also despairingly aware that even if they are lucky enough to qualify for benefit it won't be long before the process begins again!  

Many are self-harming, some feel suicide may be a better option than continuing to battle both debilitating illness and the ‘powers that be’.
Some are far sicker now under a system that (in many cases) claims they are fit for work than they were under the previous system which recognised that they were NOT and supported them accordingly.

Am I afraid? (May 2013) Yes I’m afraid, very afraid! 
(Nov 2015)... Still afraid...and the line's still fine.

Has my own tendency to self-harm increased as a direct result of the coalition’s attitude towards disabled people?
Yes!  Though I’m ashamed to admit it, it has.

Do I want to continue living with this daily, nightly, debilitating fear?
NO! Oh God no!  
I can’t see an end to it, the future is scary, and my own symptoms of mental (and physical) illness have been greatly exacerbated.


Do I ever wonder if my husband, family, (The State) would do better without the-burden-of-me? 

Sometimes.

Do I feel suicidal? - Do I wish I were dead?
Those of you who know me either through contact or through my writing will already know the answer to this question! You’ll know that I am and always have been terrified of death. You will have read here >> Scared to shut my eyes! about my overwhelming fear of death as a child, you’ll know how terrifying my intrusive thoughts are and how often they relate to death.

NO - I don’t feel suicidal, I have NEVER felt suicidal no matter how much life, other people (or my own mind) has thrown at me.  No, I don't wish I were dead.

I  don’t wish I were dead now, and I didn’t in 1986 when life, other people (and my own chaotic mind) caused me to suffer a complete mental breakdown and I attempted to take my own life...

I don’t remember how I got to my bedroom that evening with a full bottle of ‘paracetamol’ and a pint glass of water. I don’t remember planning or contemplating suicide or for one single moment wishing I was dead.
I don’t remember thinking about my 8 month old baby or wondering how he would cope without me.
I don’t remember feeling suicidal, I don’t remember wanting to die.

I DO vaguely remember taking the pills.
There was no lining up of tablets like you see on TV, no thoughts, no fear, no emotion, no tears... there was *nothingness*.
I tipped the pills from bottle to mouth (how I swallowed so many at once is beyond me) and washed each mouthful down with water until there were no more pills to take.

There are some blurry (vague) memories after that, my first husband slapping me very hard (this confused me) – baby crying - arriving at hospital in an ambulance – a black tarry substance  - gagging on a tube - a drip – a white ceiling through a strange tunnel vision, then blank again.  Days of nothing, no thoughts, no emotion... *nothingness*!

I have never ‘contemplated’ suicide, BUT in ‘1986’ (20  years old, without so much as a passing thought for the first of my five children) I very nearly succeeded in taking my own life!

***

I had a point when I started writing today and I’m not sure if I’ve succeeded in making it, so briefly... 
For many mentally ill (and indeed, physically ill) people there is a very fine line between incredible strength, and *can’t take anymore*.  
I am deeply concerned that the UK Governments relentless cuts and cruel propaganda are pushing so many vulnerable people worryingly close to... *can’t take anymore*. 

***
POSITIVE THOUGHT
I'm now almost 30 years on, I'm still here, I cannot stress enough how thankful I am for that!
How thankful I'll feel this evening when my fifth child (my baby) rolls in from school and throws her smiley-gorgeous-self into my arms.
How thankful I am to be here when my older-no-longer-at-home-kids turn up needing Mum.
How Thankful-thrilled-bubbly-excited I will be in 7ish months time when I hold my first Grandbaby.

Life is tough at the moment, it has been to varying degrees for as long as I can remember but I feel incredibly blessed to be here.
"With every heartbeat there is Hope." via @stuckinscared | Mental health | Mental illness | Disability
If you're feeling vulnerable/at risk at the moment, dear reader, please, talk to someone...confide in someone you trust... a family member, friend (IRL or on line), a medical professional, support worker or carer.
***

Thank you, as always, for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Before you go, can I ask that you consider signing the *NEW* #WOWpetition... in support of the UK's chronically sick & disabled people.

You'll find more details about the WOW-campaign HERE

The petition (should you wish to sign it) is HERE

You can follow/support the WOW-campaign on twitter HERE





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#MidLifeLuv Linky

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

Blessed within the Shadows

Do you see in me what GOD sees? 
Do you hear what he hears?
He sees so much more than mental illness, 
paranoia, fear.
Can you empathize as GOD does 
with the shadows from my past
If you looked at me with his eyes 
would you see behind the mask.

I know it hurts your feelings 
when I pull from your embrace,
I'm trapped, but always open 
to the sadness on your face.
GOD alone knows the real me, 
locked deep inside this skin
can you understand, as he does 
why I cannot let you in?

Imagine the blackest darkness, 
close your eyes, focus; are you there?
There are demons in the shadows, 
so tread carefully, beware!
I hide here in the darkness 
too afraid to venture out,
Tears frozen on my eyelids, 
suppressed, can’t scream or shout.

Now imagine you're looking through GODS eyes, 
can you see that little light?
It’s tiny in the darkness, do you see it? 
It burns so very bright.   
There’s beauty in that little light, 
such love, kindness, creativity.  
That little glowing pocket 
in the darkness that you see?
That little glowing pocket, 
is Gods 'AMAZING ME'.

©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved  


I’m blessed within the shadows 
by dreams of all that I could be
In hope, I pray, that through ‘AMAZING GRACE’ 
I will one day be free.

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x

  

Thursday, 8 October 2015

A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day)

ON MENTAL ILLNESS...


Feigning Control. mental health. mental illness. poetry. Micro poetry.

Cloaked in Sunny. poetry. Mental health. Mental Illness.


ON SPECIAL NEEDS... 
This Child. Special Needs. Poem

MATTERS OF THE HEART...
Forget me not. Poem. Poetry. Micro Poetry. National Poetry Day.

Whispers of Longing. Poetry. Micro Poetry.

Say it slow. Poetry. Micro Poetry.

Poem. Micro Poetry. 'Stitches'

GRIEF... 
How can you be Gone, Dad

The future is Dadless, I'm not ready for that. ... Grief.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES... 
From the inside. A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day.)

Echoes in the dark. A few of my poems for National poetry Day.

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x
Creative Writing. Poetry. A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day)



Tuesday, 8 September 2015

Gone.


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Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Sunday, 28 June 2015

Of Windmills and Woes


If we were having coffee, I'd be playing 'hide n chat' this week... blabbing (nervously) about your drink preference, how your weeks been, how long the kettle's taking to boil... windmills - I like windmills I do, lets talk about windmills, do you like windmills, come see my windmills.

Every silence would get a babble, an anxious, smiley, bubbly babble... and I'd be wishing you'd talk about you.

I'd drag you outside to see ALL the windmills, babbling the old, the sentimental, and the new... you'd be wishing by now you'd gone to star bucks...alone!


If we were having coffee, I wouldn't tell you how incredibly tough (special needs) parenting has been this week...

I wouldn't tell you how many times 'Littlie' has morphed from 'absolute Joy' into 'absolute nightmare', on a day to day (often hour to hour) basis, and how mind blowingly difficult it's been not reacting to her meltdowns with a few (there's only so much I can take) meltdowns of my own... how tough it's been keeping the 'me' that's not 'Mummy' in check.

Littlie has more than enough to deal with, none of it her fault, the last thing she needs, is the me that's not 'Mummy'... especially in response to the 'She' she can't help.

{Littlie (you may already know) is 9 years old, and was born with a chromosome disorder (Prader Willi Syndrome), which affects her both physically and mentally. She has global developmental delay, hypermobility, OCD,  and Tourettes (amongst other issues) ...I won't bore you the symptoms, the list is seemingly endless.}

If we were having coffee, I might explain her disability (if you asked), I'd even touch on how challenged/challenging she can be... but mostly, I'd tell you how funny she can be, how engaging, and affectionate she can be, what a wonderful character she is...how far she's come, how hard she tries... and how much I love her!

I couldn't love her more if I tried!


If we were having coffee, I wouldn't tell you how debilitating my own disabilities (fibromyalgia & mental illness, exacerbated by grief) have been this week... how hard it's been to think positive, speak positive, do positive...because no one likes negative, right?

I wouldn't tell you how confusing it is, to be Mum, to be wife, to be friend; just to be... in a world that chugs on...so quickly, pulling me (inwardly screaming) along with it.

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't ask you for a hug, despite needing one, desperately... because, in a hug I'd blub, lose control, spill 'ALL the things', scary things, big things; too big to blab things... I can't do that, no, I can't do that.

I prefer hugging to hugged.

If you needed a hug - if you were upset?... Oh, I could do that, yes, I could do that... I can always do that.

**** 

If we were having coffee, and I had added my woes to my windmills, you might not believe me anyway; because I'd be wearing a smile, long sleeves, and a face full of make up - chatting about windmills, 'absolute joy', and you...

...because, it's easier (and fairer) to share 'absolute joy' than it is to share 'absolute nightmare' - easier to play 'hide n chat' than it is to play 'chat the crap' - safer to talk windmills than it is to talk woes!

Oh, and because I'd quite like you to come again... :)

If we were having coffee, I'd ask how you were, and wonder, does your "I'm okay" mimic mine!
Do you play the game too? are you playing it now? Filling silence with babble... sunshiny, smiley, bubbly babble... wishing I'd talk about me.


****

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

P.S... Littlie is currently presenting (at time of kettle boiling)... as 'absolute joy'... long may it last :)

P.P.S... I'm adding this post to the Weekend Coffee Share, linky/bloghop... the brain child of 'Part Time Monster'. You can read other Coffee Shares, and/or add your own ((HERE))


****

Related posts...


Sunday, 7 June 2015

It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to.

"Nothing feels real. Everything's TOO real. I'm lost without you." Grief. Dad. Quote via @stuckinscared

Dad,

What do I do today? How do I do today?  Should I be doing something? - What do I say? I don't know what to say, Dad... should I be saying something?

What do people say to dead Dads on their Birthday?

Happy Birthday Dad? Are you happy? Are you here? can you hear me? Can I see you? can you do that?... I want you to do that.

Sorry?... Should I be saying sorry, Dad?

Sorry I couldn't get to you, wasn't with you when you died, never said goodbye... never made it to your funeral, (I hate that word, 'Funeral').

I know my sadness would hurt you (is hurting you) but I don't know how to do today (any day) without sadness...without you, Dad.
I've never had to do a Dadless 'Dad day' before, I've never had to do a Dadless 'any day' before, until now.

I miss you, Dad, I need you, I don't know how to 'be' without you... I don't want to be without you.
One more look into eyes that speak 'I love you' whenever they look at me, one more hug/smile/hand-hold, one more day/month/year, one more "I love you too babe"; Please Dad, just one more...This longing... it's unbearable.

I know what you're thinking, I know what you'd say, what you're saying... I don't wanna hear it, Dad!

I hear you so clearly you could be sat here hugging me (Oi you'ing, tear stained/mascara stained shirt).

"Keep smiling babe"
"Time heals"
"Focus on those who're still here"
"Keep on keeping on"
"Move your arse, dry your eyes, and go play with your Littlie"
"Be happy babe, I want you to be happy"
"Look to the future now"
"Think positive"
"Keep smiling babe"
"Keep smiling babe"
"Keep smiling babe".
"Life goes on" .............

Life goes on?! .... Really?!

Is that your voice, or is it mine?

Matters lots... matters not... changes nothing... I don't wanna hear it, Dad!

Daddy, you were my safe, my 'who to go to', my always there (and if not there, getting there) my consistent (my only consistent) my 'strong'... My someone to trust.

And now... You're the scream I let out when you left... the scream I've held in ever since. A touch without a feel, a shadow without a face, sorrows tears, sorrows scream, sorrows smile.
You're my 'not there-can't get there; will never get there again'... you're the tears I'm crying now.

Gone.

How can you be gone!

How can you be gone, Dad.

Are you gone?

Is that you, are you there?

Is that your voice, or is it mine?

I can't bear 'this'.

Come home Dad, please come home Dad, I need you.

Nothing feels real, everything's too real!

I don't wanna hear it, Dad, I don't wanna hear it!

The future is Dadless... I'm not ready for that.
It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to... grief... quote. Blog post. via @stuckinscared

I know you'd stop 'this' if you could, say anything to make 'this' better, but Dad, really?! ....Throw in 'It's just the way the mop flops', and we'd have ALL the cliches!

But I get it, Dad...I do - I was (all your girls were) your smiles, your good on the bad days, your reason for living, your everything. If it were fixable you fixed it. If we hurt you hurt....You can't bear 'this' either... can you.

I'm sorry Dad x

****

POSITIVE THOUGHT
When I was about 8 years old I bought my Dad a box of 'Liquorice Allsorts' for his birthday. His eye's lit up when he opened them, and I remember, so clearly, him (chomping) "mmmm my favorite".

I bought him a box of 'Allsorts' (his favorite) every birthday after that......... I was 48 before he finally told me he actually hated them.

That's the kind of Dad my Dad was.

PRAYER
I'm not alone in my Dadlessness, a few of my friends have lost their Dads recently. Lord, bless them, hold them tight, help them through 'this'. Amen.

**** 

Thank you for allowing me to share

Bless you, all of you who have supported me over the past few weeks, it's meant more than you could possibly know!

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Related post: About a Man


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Thursday, 5 February 2015

Is 'This Tired' .... #Fibromyalgia ?


Forgive me, dear readers of my rambles, for I have sinned been too knackered, discombobulated, spoonless to write, it's been days since I last knocked out anything worth sharing, and will likely be days before I reach the end of this ramble.

I would like to get this one over to you though, especially to those of you who suffer ME, and/or Fibromyalgia.

A few months ago, I had a severe pain/mobility episode, during which my back/hips went out of alignment and I was left virtually unable to walk for a period of around three weeks, it's not the first time this has happened, and as (over the past 18 months or so) I have experienced ongoing (though less severe) pain in other areas, and a variety of other (random) symptoms, my GP made a referral for me to see a rheumatologist. 

Anyway, to cut a long consultation short, the rheumatologist, diagnosed wear and tear, probable disc prolapse, and sciatica, he then told me that.... I'm developing Fibromyalgia. 

At first, given the (long list) of random symptoms I've been experiencing, and the little I'd heard about Fibromyalgia, his opinion seemed to make sense. However, since then (as you do if you're given a new diagnosis) I've googled untold amounts of Fibro information, and as a result of my google fest there are a few things that are concerning me. 

Firstly, Almost every article I came across states (in one phrase or another) that - Symptoms of Fibromyalgia mimic those of various other conditions (including, worryingly, Multiple Sclerosis) and as there is no specific test for Fibro, diagnosis should only be reached after first testing for/and ruling out other conditions. 

Many of the articles I read also state, that Fibro symptoms are very similar to those of ME (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis ), except that (in most cases) pain is the predominant problem in people with Fibro, whereas fatigue is the major complaint in people with ME. 

I'm a little (a lot) concerned that the rheumatologist would throw fibro at me (on first consultation) without first testing to rule out other possible conditions, especially as (though I do experience wide spread pain, to varying degrees) fatigue is most definitely my major issue! 

It's worth mentioning that the doctor did perform the 'Tendor Points' test, and that I felt 'no pain' in any of the areas he pressed - although his fingers might well have been butterfly wings, so gentle was his touch. 

On that note, dear reader, (especially those of you who are in the knackerbobulated club) - do you, in your *I'm living it so I should know* opinion - think that.... 
a) my symptoms (to follow*) fit the Fibro diagnosis the rheumatologist has thrown at me?  
b) Should I ask him to run tests to exclude other conditions, and if so, is he obliged to do so? 

And now (as promised*) bet you can't wait!

THE FATIGUE
Actually, fatigue doesn't cover *This Tired*, I'm not sure there is any stand alone word that does! o_O 

Having suffered mental illness for years (including, depression, OCD, anxiety, and an Eating disorder) I'm no stranger to fatigue, but *This Tired*, Oh my, this tired is like nothing I have ever experienced before! 

No amount of sleep eases 'This Tired', it is extreme, overwhelming, relentless....it knocks me off of my feet, muddles my brain, limits my ability to 'do', and forces me to rest after even the shortest periods of 'doing'. 

'This Tired' has been getting progressively worse for around 18 months, and has been a constant for the past 6 (or so) - and when I say constant, I mean constant, every second, of every minute, of every day! 

I drag myself up in the mornings feeling like I've been hit by a dumper truck (even if I've slept all night) and spend the rest of the day (when I'm not napping) doing very little - and 'very little' is mindblowingly exhausting! 

I could go on with the fatigue issue (I have more words!) but I'd rather you didn't hit the 'bugger this I'm off button' (assuming you haven't already) so I'll move on. 

The Pain:Well, (as I said earlier) fatigue is by far my major complaint, but I am definitely ouchy..all over (though not usually 'all over' at once) to varying degrees every day.
Back, hip, face, tummy, neck - Head, shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes) and eyes, and ears, and mou....   
Sorry, couldn't resist - I don't actually (to date) have a painful mouth and nose ;o)

The Randoms: There's a list o_O

Pickaxe to the head: I'm not kidding, well actually, I am.... but MY GOD, if anyone should ever take a pickaxe to my head, I reckon I'd know what'd hit me!  
This can happen at anytime, sometimes more than once a day, it stops me in my tracks, and is (thank God it doesn't last long each time - seconds usually) excruciating!

Knife through the shoulder blade: Clearly, I'm dramatizing again, I've never (literally) been stabbed in the back, but, there really is no other way to describe it. Knife pain lasts a lot longer than pickaxe pain, and transmits a heavy-achy feeling down my arm and into my hand, causing partial numbness in the process. 

Alternative shoulder pain: This one is bothersome (because it disturbs sleep) it's painful, intensely so at times (though more heavy/achy/bruised than stabbing) and occurs under pressure....by pressure I mean laying on it/leaning on it.

Chest Pain: I sometimes get a sharp, severe, stabbing pain in my chest just above my left breast, which often radiates through to my neck and/or shoulder, it hurts more when I breath in, and when point of pain is touched (on instinct) it's exacerbated. This one frightens the life out of me (exacerbated by OCD thoughts) - *is it my lungs? is it lung cancer? Am I having a heart attack?* .. You get the picture. 

Facial/head numbness: This one's weird, and can hit at anytime (though not every day) - not only do I experience numbness in my face and/or head, but it's accompanied (or followed) by a strange internal trickling sensation, almost like cold running water, underneath the skin. It's extremely disconcerting. 

Bone Pain (deep): (periodic) Specifically knees/hips - when I say deep I'm attempting to describe (in short) an excruciating pain that would be better described as 'cork screwing' or 'boring' the bone - It hurts..a lot! o_O 

Pick & choose hands; I told you my symptoms were random! What I mean by this is - my hands (more often than not the right hand) can be working perfectly well one minute, and be practically useless (powerless) the next. 
Generally there is very little pain involved, but it is incredibly frustrating when I attempt to pick something up and 'hand says no'. 

Muddling words (forgetting words) OFTEN!: I've always been an outstanding read-out-louder (blows own trumpet) but really, I have; in fact at school (more often than not) I would be the 'chosen one' if any reading out loud was going on. 
Now however, I'm noticing more and more; whilst reading to my daughter, that I'm either muddling the beginning/end of words, stuttering, reading words the wrong way round, or (most worryingly) reading words that are not even on the page. 
It's almost as if my brain and mouth are in no way connected. To give a for instance - I just read this paragraph aloud, and read the word 'words' as 'swords' o_O
Similarly, I'm Having trouble writing/typing words correctly - specifically, I'm writing letters in the wrong order, or missing words out of sentences altogether.  
Even tweets require an edit before posting these days - and Iv'e lost count of the mistakes I've had to correct while writing this post (FYI - I just wrote dyas in the line above, as apposed to days, and corrected) o_O
These issues, coupled with my referring to the kettle (to give just one for instance) as "Oh, (tut) you know, the black thingy that boils water" is enough to drive me (and the rest of the family) insane! 
Makes no sense - Literally! 

Dizzyness/feeling faint: Especially when fatigue is at it's worst.  

Lead Legs: Heavy, achy (sometimes numb-ish) legs; that have to be willed on when walking, and often make me feel nauseous when resting - it's not a nice feeling, nor is it one I can easily describe..except perhaps to say that - when it occurs, I can feel my legs, (including pain) but they're not quite with it, or with me....Does that make sense? - Well anyway, if there is such a thing as 'lead legs', I have them. 

Itchy/painful ears: Oh how I hate this one. During the day my ears are more itchy than ouchy, but at night the pain is frequently unbearable. 
For months now my ears have objected to being caught between my head and the pillow, and will often wake me up (screamingly) to let me know how pissed off they are. 
Once they've woken me, they refuse to allow me to lift my head without first sliding my hand between them and the pillow, and keeping said hand firmly over the offending a***hole ear hole until I've (carefully, because it really bloody hurts) lifted myself up into a sitting position. 

Drunk walking (minus the drinking): Probably explains itself this one.. but in short - I (often, not always) find I can't walk in a straight line. I've lost count of the amount of times I'm walking down the street beside hubs one minute, and under his feet the next. The annoying thing is, I can feel myself suddenly veer off to the left, but there's bugger all I can do about it. (Sorry hubs x) 

Finally, and briefly (cause it's taken me days to knock this lot out, and 'This Tired' is killing me!) 
Palpitations: Eye twitches: numb hands/feet/toes: Dreams (more than usual): Sleep issues: can't sleep, or, can do nothing but sleep - no sleep is enough sleep - there is no relief from 'This Tired'!

So my friends, (those of you who would know) what do you think, is rheumy right to assume Fibro without testing?  
Is he (In your experience) seeing something in the above that leads him to believe further investigation unnecessary? 
Am I right to think (because google told me so) that what I'm describing sounds more ME than FS, or (as Google suggests) something else entirely?

Blimey, I've just read that lot back and I'm doing my own head in.... If you didn't hit the 'bugger this I'm off button', I salute you! 

Thank you for allowing me to share 


God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie X 

Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved 

Update: Since writing this post (after various tests, including an MRI, to rule out other possibilities; and a second opinion...because I still wasn't convinced o_O) I have been given a definite diagnosed of Fibromyalgia. 

Thank you all, who offered support/advice in the process. 

Tuesday, 20 January 2015

'How did I survive that' ... (In 99 words)

I had planned to write some poetry this afternoon, but, whilst searching Twitters writing prompts this morning, I stumbled upon the following ... write a 99-word story using this ending: How did I survive that?)

I may still ponder the poetic later on this evening, but for now....

'HOW DID I SURVIVE THAT'
I don’t remember how I got to my bedroom that evening with a full bottle of tablets and a pint glass of water. I don’t remember contemplating suicide, or for one single moment wishing I was dead.

I don’t remember feeling suicidal. I don’t remember wanting to die. 

I do vaguely remember taking the pills.
There was no lining up of tablets like you see on TV, no thoughts, no fear, no emotion - only *nothingness*.

I tipped the pills from bottle to mouth until there were no more pills to take. 


Oftentimes I wonder... How did I survive that?  

***

POSITIVE THOUGHT
28 years (and four children) on - I feel incredibly blessed to be here.

write a 99-word story using this ending: How did I survive that?)... | Mental health. mental illness. writing prompt.

Thank you as always for allowing me to share

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x