In a follow-up to my last venture to the edge of the abyss, things are slightly better today though I cried nearly the entire solo drive to Bardstown to see my beautiful mother-in-law and some out-of-town relatives of Ell. For the record, I didn't cry...not once...from 1983 to 2006. Now, things, no, I am different, fundamentally altered by probably genetically predisposed to depression (father and his father were killed by alcohol abuse) and the chronic pain associated with this litany of diagnoses of my spinal column and nerve root compressions.
I realize many of you have heard this crap before, but it's the focal point of every waking moment, every decision to move one way or another, whether my left hip and leg have enough stamina to allow a decent shower before the spasms overwhelm my ability not to split my skull on the side of the fucking tub. It's a mess.
Ell wrote me a comment saying that she and the kids love me. I know that and it's the probably the only thing to keep my fingers and brain working in a positive, non-violent manner. But, the most frustrating thing is armed with that knowledge I STILL feel awful, despondent, unmotivated, unworthy...and guilty for feeling like that pussy on the Geico commercial with the ex-drill sergeant working as a therapist. I laugh my ass off every time I see it b/c it's funny as hell and it hits way too close to home to ignore.
Tomorrow's topic: Why I don't shave (and no, I'm NOT French)
xoxo
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