For the past five days I have been battling with, being absorbed by or dealing with thoughts of suicide.
Part of it we can blame on Luna, since I tend to have a “dark” day or two immediately before. But also there has been a constant and unrelenting pressure of both the looming trip to Japan and the daily appointments. Last night it hit hard and I was overwhelmed by the feelings that this whole trip was just another example of me going off tilting at windmills, one which like all of them, was destined to end in failure. Failure is bad enough, but I had staked all my money, Linda’s money, our future earned money and my own health on it. After weeks and months on unrelenting research, I was stuck between feeling that I simply had not done ENOUGH, and that I had given into VAINITY, that this was not a trip I could reasonably make, not in my health.
There is no direct causal effect between the Japan Trip and the feelings of suicide, Japan is merely another stress, one where I have very little control once the trip starts and yet, once started I would have no desire for it to end. Each day, I work and research, info dumps so huge that my brain feels like it is going to explode, and when I can’t take anymore and stare into space, or take hours off then I chastise myself for not doing enough. Linda says this feeling is familiar to her too.
I want to go to Japan
I want to call it off. But it is too late.
There isn’t enough time to see all that I MUST see in Japan, yet, I’m scared to go at all.
I lay in bed last night and felt like beating on the wall, and not about Japan but about (wait for the randomness), organ transplant lists. I read about the waits on transplants lists and how people are being jerked around. It made me realize very clearly that I would NEVER be on any transplant lists, because I have too many systems failing to make it viable to put me on one, and because THERE IS NO TREATMENT. These things are kind of hamster wheels of the mind because if I WAS on some list I would spend all my time calculating the percentage chance I would get the organ before I died. But instead I am frustrated because any major surgery would almost certainly end with my having a stroke, assuming I could come back at all. I am frustrated because my condition, autonomic failure, has been known for 83 years and the amount of understanding, of treatment has not improved an iota (not even random guesses). Perhaps because I have hours daily of chest pain, even with the maximum pain killers is affecting my views. Pain is a very mind altering experience.
So it took me a long time until I started speaking today, until late afternoon. Because if there is no point in my living, then there certainly is no point in talking. Yet, while not speaking, I still spent the time transferring the places we wanted to go from the various books to our Kyoto Map.
I am afraid. I feel like a child left behind in the hills, the wind blowing and the vast, open, empty night spreading as far as can be felt. Not just my days, but my life is running out of my hands faster than I can cup them and no will power or tricks or brilliancy will stop this feeling of fear. And if I accept control of my life, which I MUST do, then I accept all of it; not just the trip planning or the nausea or the breathing problems but the weight loss and that I bruise sitting on the toilet now (fun fact of the day).
Today, I dreamed I was in Japan, and after the sword dance they wanted any women to take the sword. And I got out of the chair and received the sword with a bow. And then reviewed in my mind: choose the angle, attack her outer arm; you are far taller than her, move her arm out of position and go for a closing throat lunge. I guess that is why it hurts so much, because it is all still there, in my head, how to let her attacks as I retreat create the timing and opening; how to attack without exposing, ready for retreat and counterattack. That probably means nothing to you. I used to laugh inside when they would take away my competition epee’s as “weapons.” Because once trained to the level where you consistently hit an opening the size of a dime while avoiding the weapon of your opponent, all while they are either racing toward or away from you: having the right length of umbrella or cane, I or any highly trained epeeist could crush the larynx of half a dozen people in a few seconds if so minded. It is like when they planned to shoot the lit arrow over the Olympic torch to light it, and have it land in a space a few feet deep outside the stadium. It wasn’t the archer who made the successful trial who was selected, because ALL the archers they asked who attempted it succeeded. Doing something considered nearly impossible of humans is what modern competitive sports are about. The Number 2 in Canada eliminated me because I was trained to respond to epee moves that took a fraction of a second; her attack made three moves and took 3/16th of a second. All that knowledge and training is still inside me, it is just I will never use it.
I’d like to run. I’d like to be able to walk to an airport check-in desk with a backpack on my back. I’d like to know how to stabilize my heart, my breathing, to even understand the hours it takes of just being awake where the more I am awake the sicker I get. I want to fence for Canada, even if it was eventually in Master Class. I want to go back to when pain meant I had worked hard, instead of feeling fear and wondering how much sleep I will get tonight.
I want my mind back, and my body back and the ability to use both. I want to receive the rewards I worked for.
Isn’t that what suicide and fear is about: only able to see what was and scared of what is ahead. Well it is with me. Linda said I should think of squirrels. I told her there weren’t interested in me this month. She said that I was putting out the wrong pheromones. I replied, “Thank God. I was sort of hoping I was sending out pheromones for OTHER species” (significant look.)
Anyway, I realized that many of the clothes are packed, that whether I am terrified or not, whether I find a shop to get the “perfect” kimono, whether I get a cold as soon as I get there, whether I get no sleep and end up in a hospital….I am still going. And that when I get back, they will still be lined up to test me, and it will still be up to me to fight along with my GP, to get treatment and specialists to take action to deal with problems while there is time.
It is just, I guess that sometimes I want to live in the past, or grieve, or hide, or give up. But I don’t. It is just it takes energy, emotional pain and time to fight it. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t feel suicidal or have a case of the pity’s or the “not fairs”, or just the shaking unknown terror, because I do. But that isn’t who I am. And I can’t face something by pretending it doesn’t exist.
Okay, I’m scared, and maybe, right now, I want to die. But this too will pass.
6 hours ago