Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Voided self; saw doctor

I was on my way to the doctor and just passed the mall's toilets when I felt the urge. I dashed into the disabled cubicle, gingerly lowered then voided—it was like I'd taken massaman beef sauce and thrown it from the door in the vague direction of the bowl.

It was beyond hideous. I cleaned up, checked in and with still roiling guts and waited. I had my appointment, got my assorted paperwork then headed home. The afterglow of the reverse PAG still ripples with fierce pride around my midsection. 

I got through the appointment without crying and without anger—and was able to talk calmly about my latest grapple with active anxiety and it's because of experience and acceptance.

It's empowering to know when you're mentally and physically ill that you're mentally and physically ill—it's not a failure of will, it's a psychological and physiological reaction due to injury and susceptibility (1). To know what you're experiencing—because you've experienced it before—makes the process bearable. I can step out of a shaking, guts-exploded animal fear-soaked self and realise this is normal, this has happened before, and we will get through it (2).

I wear my depression and anxiety like armour—out and proud. They make me a better person. 

The shitty side of it, however, is they literally give me the shits.

(double flushes massaman beef).

(1) theWife has to remind me that I am mentally ill. That there are some things beyond me and I have to think with logic.
(2) "we" because there's two of me in that scenario; Hyde me and Jekyll me. Though if you'd ask me which is the more evil sounding name I would have said Jekyll. When you think about it Jekyll is the true monster because he knowingly turns himself into Hyde and Hyde is cchemically-induced animal psyche run amok

No comments:

Post a Comment

No comments needed, really.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.