Friday, 20 May 2011

To love and to be loved.

I found myself back in hospital yesterday. Last June, I can remember being laid on a hospital bed, so exhausted that any form of conscious thought physically hurt, just sort of waiting for something, somebody, to bring me to either life or death. Purgatory. And yesterday? Although I've done less damage to my body (severe dehydration from this week's antics, but that was really it) recently than I'd done a year ago, I just... God. Exhaustion. Confusion.

But as the saline hit my blood stream, the exhaustion became anger. Somebody hurt me a few weeks ago. Not intentionally and in a way that would probably not have bothered me if not for a million separate events in my history. Somebody hurts me and so I respond by hurting myself? Where's the logic? It's like a country dropping a nuclear bomb that destroys half your country, and you taking 'revenge' by dropping another that destroys the other half of your country. So no, fuck that shit.

I let my guard down and let the disorder back in, these last few weeks. I'm not calling it a relapse because there's a certain permanence about that word. I'm not calling it a blip, because that's too flippant for a period that ended with me collapsing and being taken to hospital by ambulance. It was just a BAD TIME. But it's sort of renewed something in me. I will NOT do this again. I want to be strong. More than anything, I want to be strong. Laying in the hospital bed, wishing I at least had the energy to cry over the whole situation, brought back the feeling I had last June that all the hospitalisations since then just haven't. Hopelessness in the situation, combined with a hopefulness for the future and a the biggest motivational burst I can ever imagine.

I was hospitalised in October, January, March and then twice this month... seriously? What the FUCK have I been doing?

No comments:

Post a Comment