You know, they say that order to be truly free, one must give up a little part of oneself.
Hedwig in hedwig and the angry inch
That is the inevitable conclusion I have come to. There comes a time in everyone’s life when the main thing holding them back is themselves. They are in their own way, and the only way to get out of their own way is to give up things they falsely believe to be a fundamental part of themselves.
But that’s the false self, the one we create based on the things we think we know about ourselves instead of be actually looking at our naked self and seeing who we really are.
Truth is, you can cut that rotten piece of you right out and be better off without it. Just like removing a tumour or pulling a tooth.
I mean, sure, it will hurt like hell. And there will be blood, and worse, no doubt. Your body rarely handles the idea that there is part of you that came from you and that has been there a long time is nevertheless bad now and has to go.
We are not used to having to disconnect part of ourselves emotionally. Things always go the other way when we are kids. We all have lots of experience with getting bigger and accepting that there is more of us now.
But cutting things off, whether physically or emotionally? That’s when things get tricky.
Shit’s got to go, though, so it’s gonna go. Luckily, this is where having a cold-blooded and ruthless side comes in handy. I am perfectly capable of doing whatever needs to be done in order to free myself from this goddamned illegal leg-trap of a fucking life.
There is nothing in me that I value more highly than my own sanity and happiness. I will dump the contents of my soul into the fires of Mount Doom if that’s what it takes.
Pain is bullshit anyhow. It happens and then it’s over and then it’s gone and all that’s left is the prize you earned with your pain.
Some things are worth the pain. Remember that.
I don’t think I could define the part of me that needs to go. But I can feel clearly. It’s full of all those toxins and demons and cruel laughter in the dark that I have painstakingly refined and distilled out of the dregs of my soul for all these years.
And that can create the illusion of progress. The poison might not be gone, but it’s not where it used to be and it’s out of sight, so I can forget about it a while.
Nowhere near as good as actually being clean, though. I need to expel the pollutants, not just move them around.
What I really need is some dialysis of the soul. My mind’s kidneys aren’t getting the job done and I need help getting rid of all that rotten old blood so that new, fresh, healthy blood can take its place.
I need renewal, dammit. Let the cycle spin again.
More after the break.
And yet, somehow, worse
Now I am worried about my pulmonary health.
That’s the lungs, y’all. But you already knew that.
Turns out that time yesterday when I felt like I was going to drown in my own sinus fluid was not a one-off aberration. It’s been coming and going all day, meaning that sometimes I just plain can’t lie down.
Which is intensely frustrating so I am trying not to think about it too much.
And that, of course, has me thinking pneumonia. I can tell the fluid is in my lungs and not just my nose et al. I don’t usually get that from just my usual sinus bullshit. So the pneumonia option is still in play.
Plus I have had a general increase in my overall feeling of crappiness today. All day I have felt even weaker and more drained and more fragile than usual.
Breathing seems harder too. Only by a bit, but still.
So consider me to be on high alert. No way am I going to let it get it get as bad as it did last time I had the ‘monia.
Last time, you will remember (now), when the nurses in the ER took my blood oxygen reading very, very carefully, when the number popped up one of the younger nurses shot one of the older nurses a look of great shock and disbelief with an implied “are you seeing this? What the fuck???” tagged on.
Technically a lapse in professionalism. You’re not supposed to let that kind of thing show lest you freak out the patient and make everything worse.
But I don’t blame her. It must take time to build up your poker face.
I honestly thought it was cute.
Stlll, I know I was super lucky to not have it turn into something far worse before I got around to going go the ER (!!). So this time, I am crouched at the starting line.
All I need is one solid, verifiable symptom and I am off to the frigging ER.
Even sans symptom I might go anyhow. Give it 24 hours and we will see. I know that I am VERY vulnerable and even the smallest of infections might be able to kick my ass right now, so I am going to be very very vigilant.
I hope they don’t take one look at my list of symptoms and say “COVID!” and send me back home again.
There is no way I could keep from feeling rejected.
I can definitely feel some scratchiness building in the back of my throat and it is getting somewhat hard to concentrate.
I will see how I feel tomorrow afternoon, when Julian takes me to the lab for my pee test. Finally getting around to it.
Of course, the urinary issue that prompted it has all but vanished.
Oh well, it will be useful information anyhow.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.