There are definitely underlying self esteem and dissociation issues when it comes to feeling sick most, if not all, of the time. Things have gotten better since leaving the stressful environment of the city, I know this – but, in some ways, it’s also gotten much worse.
In Vancouver, I could pop in and out of my head with no problem, this isn’t a healthy way to cope by any means, but it worked. The moment I started feeling sick, my auto pilot would kick in, it was the only way I could deal with the pain and nausea without having full blown panic attacks (unless I was in public, if I was in public I was screwed). While I was always trying to get better, I didn’t really have the mind set to fully commit to what it took, probably because I was less than half there during my episodes and making it through the next 4-8 hours on the bathroom floor was the only goal in mind.
Now it’s different. The city noise has quieted, I am able to stay present and focused… but I can’t remove myself from the illness anymore, Crohn’s or whatever it is. My bad nights, while lessened, involve so much more panic and fear than I’ve been used to. I’ve been working hard to get better, I’m trying new methods and working with new people to sort this out, but it all just seems so impossible. I feel like I’m, single handedly, trying to destroy a mountain with a pickaxe… every once and a while someone will drive by, roll down their window and shout some sage advice at me, but it’s always short lived – they get sick of my unwillingness to listen or to try. They forget that I am one person who is already trying as hard as she can, who is so tuned in to the sound of her pick hitting stone that some words are hard to hear and, a lot of the time, the words picked up will be misconstrued and warped because she is so tired of the entire thing.
I guess I can recognize this as some sort of plea to those around me and to myself… I’m doing the best I can, I’m completely reseting my insides, please be patient.