I am in hell. Herxing Hell.
I can’t get out of bed. I can’t sleep. I can’t read. I can’t see. I can’t speak. I can’t take this anymore. I’m unable to do anything to pass the endless agonizing hours. I’m left to unseeingly stare at the ceiling, held hostage in an endless twilight zone of pain and confusion, locked away in a darkened room, alone with my ugly thoughts. This disease is holding me captive from all that I hold dear - my family, my friends, my life.
Who am I anymore? I have been reduced to a throbbing, sobbing, useless and forgotten lump. Even the tender kisses of my little ones send me spiraling downward in a cascade of pain.
And noise! Any sound is like a tortuous physical assault of a hundred fists pummeling my body black and blue. And there is noise just beyond my closed and barricaded bedroom door. The precious sounds of life. The sounds of my old life. My family. My giggly, sing songing Avery. My sweet Parker pretending to be Indiana Jones. The incessant ringing of Taylor’s cell phone. The sweet sounds of life. Yet they are a deafening and torturous sound to my misfiring brain. Hearing them sends my heart pounding erratically, my head spinning and my body twitching uncontrollably. And so I have no choice but to throw the covers over my head, and plug my ears in an effort to drown it all out and calm my over stimulated senses.
I feel like a monster, what kind of mother can’t stand the happy sounds of her children? And I wonder and I think that my family would be better off without this inaccessible shadow that is left of me.
Today, I have wept a thousand tears, and begged and pleaded with God to end it, one way or the other. I’m tired of the endless pain. I’m tired of fighting a disease that ravages my mind and body. I’m overwhelmed by the futility of it all. I can’t summon up the courage or the strength to continue this fight. I am tired of choosing to find the positive side of this. I am desperate to crawl out of my skin.
I just want out.
Please God Please…either IT goes or I go.