Monday, April 11, 2016
Day 139 - Wednesday, April 6, 2016
After work today, on my way home, I felt drained and semi-psychotic. After taking my son to karate practice it got worse. I needed to get out of the house so I grabbed my keys and went for a drive.
I began crying. I couldn't breathe. It wouldn't stop. My chest began hurting relentlessly. I didn't know where to go. I was driving in my car and called Kim from work. But she wasn't saying anything of help and I just started screaming and hung up the phone. I hate being vulnerable or opening up for no reason. If a person can't help me then what is the point of talking to them. I wasn't mad. I was just moving forward.
I kept driving and crying and trying to figure out where I was even going. Then I began heading in the direction of my brother's house. Something in the pit of my stomach said don't do it. I have never reached out to this brother for any sort of emotional support because he doesn't respect emotions and seems as if he doesn't have any of his own. But I went anyway. Why? Because he told me I could talk to him when something is wrong. Because he told me he is my brother and he loves me. Because everyone tells me to learn to reach out for help. So, I tried it.
When I pulled up in his driveway, his car wasn't there. I was devastated and began crying even harder. Once again, my gut began to speak to me and told me to just leave. But I went against it and called him. He answered and said he was out to dinner with someone. This is just what I was talking about the other day about how important romantic relationships are compared to family ones. I cried and told him not to worry about it and that I would just go home. He asked me why did I come without calling. I hung up. It was an emergency, duh! I didn't say that to him because it would be rude and disrespectful.
I could barely see as I drove home. My vision was blurry in addition to the constant flow of tears. But I made it. I didn't even pull my car into my driveway. I left it outside of the gate I staggered into my home. I was drained, lost, and confused. Within moments of walking in I felt my body begin to tremble at the onset of what would be my first seizure for the night.
My son began to administer CPR as he called Fire-Rescue. He gave them all of my information, including age, address, name, responsiveness, and heart rate. I know this because the medics told me. As I began to come to, I saw my brother standing in my living room as they were loading me onto the gurney. But I went out again because I began to seize once more.
I was in the hospital for a while. I don't know how long. I woke up feeling drained and was advised that they had to sedate me because I had a total of four seizures. They ran CAT scans and everything while I was out. My brother came to pick me up from the hospital and the first thing he said is that it's not cool for him to come to my house and see my son standing over me and on the phone with Fire-Rescue. He went on to say that he thinks I have a mental condition and something along the lines of me not providing a good environment for my son.
That was it for me. Maybe I took it wrong but what I was hearing was that my issues are becoming a burden for him and I am not being a good parent for my son. I didn't get angry at him. I just nodded my head and became angry with myself for expecting any understanding. And I am Supermom! Nothing is wrong with my child or the way I am raising him. I just listened as my heart broke once again.
I am done. I am putting my feelings away for good. How could someone get mad at me for feeling the way I feel? I always get this crap about what I shouldn't do, knowing that no one has ever told me what I SHOULD DO. He didn't seem interested in my pain no matter how well I broke it down for him. He didn't seem interested in all that I had been through during these 29 years of life I have experienced. He just brought up my failures. The very few failures that I had, and he completely disregarded all of the MANY things that have been done TO ME. He just always becomes quickly agitated with my experiences and hurt derived from them.
I am burned out. I am not writing anymore. I don't want to burden anyone with the act of worrying about me. But just imagine how it feels to actually BE me. But I guess worrying is the real burden, huh? *shrugs*
But the truth is, I acquired this disease. No one else. I am responsible for myself at this point. Not them. I have to keep that in mind. They didn't give it to me.
I feel so alone as far as understanding goes. I mean there are several people who make themselves available to me every now and then. But what is the point if they don't understand? Either way, I appreciate them for trying to be there for me.
So, as I crack, crumble and fall apart, and possible develop a mental condition in the process, I will no longer be writing my blog. I will try to come back on and post my results after the 19th of this month, which is my next doctor's appointment. I will not have the results that day because that is the day they will be drawing the blood. But I will try to post it a few days later once they tell me. I will also post my next HIV test results because I feel that I am close to being cured. One more package would have definitely did it for me but I am tired of scrounging for change in order to try to save for it. And I refuse to ask my brother for any more money towards it based on the way he expressed his feelings toward my condition and life as a whole. If I am not cured at this next visit then I will just have to slow down and know that it might take me three more months to raise the money on my own for another treatment package.
I don't care about anything (except my son) anymore. I don't want to be righteous or mannerable or any of that shit that doesn't really matter in the end. All it does is give you status. I don't want to care about people who don't care about me. I don't want to care what people think. I don't want to do the right thing. I just want to be happy and actually enjoy living my life for me and my happiness. At this point, I choose to do whatever it is that will make me happy despite what anyone thinks or despite what it looks like. Because all this time, I thought I was doing the right thing and I was STILL being judged maliciously. Screw it. Time to be happy.
Farewell until next time. Peace and love to all.
Sometimes you can't see the joyful part of your life until it's over...