There was a time, maybe a year ago, when I thought that the withdrawal side effects of my meds were the worst thing I had ever experienced. I thought that, combined with losing a close friend was the worst thing I could go through emotionally.
I’m sorry to say it’s not true.
Today I sit at what feels like my lowest point. I’ve seen deep dark pits of depression that I didn’t think I could get out of. Today, those days seem like self pity and almost something I would rather deal with. I feel like those days, now that they are behind me, are significantly better than these current days.
I have come to a point in life where I’m questioning my existence. My blood pressure is so high that the meds I was given aren’t really doing a thing. I hear my heart pounding in my ears and my pulse in my fingers and chest constantly. My headache is nonstop, and there is really nothing that can be done when it’s blood pressure related. The slightest agitation causes the blood rush to cause chest pains. Costochondritis, I’m told. It’s either a viral thing, or a chronic thing. Nobody knows or wants to diagnose me properly. It feels like my rib cage is separating at the sternum, ready to spring open at any moment.
My stomach, at the moment, is calm. It wasn’t a few months ago. I was having stomach pains that felt like someone had carved a hole inside me. It was like nothing I’ve felt before and nothing I want to feel again. Sometimes, the stomach pain would wrap around to my back like the chest pain sometimes does. I wonder if it is all the same.
Through all it, I’ve gone to the emergency room 4 times this year, I’ve had 2 medical procedures that required anesthesia, yet no one knows what to make of my pain. It’s a crippling pain that few medications can even touch. Sometimes I’m doubled over, praying for an end of any kind. Sounds overly dramatic, huh? I’d say so too, if I weren’t living it.
Through this, I have had more blows to my ego than I care to say. The medical bills are piling up, I’m not able to take care of my share of the bills at home either. There is no end in sight. Every ER visit results in at least $1000. The medical procedures are much, much higher.
Through a wounded ego, I have asked for help more than I thought I could ever bear to. It is too humbling. I am strong and independent. I’m not supposed to ask for help from anyone. I’m supposed to be able to make it on my own. I’m supposed to be the one helping.
Even though I’m in constant pain, I’m finding myself more busy than ever. I think it’s to distract myself from this physical body.
Sometimes I think I’ve found a good place and new friends. I thought my new job was nothing short of a miracle. Until I was sick one too many times, that is.
My coworker, who has been absent an equal amount of time, if not more, decided to become quite hateful towards me for being gone. At work on Tuesday, she didn’t say five words to me. Wednesday I find out that she was, indeed, upset with me for being gone from work. She was frustrated and blaming me for future sick days that haven’t even happened yet. This was only brought about because of a concern I brought to the boss. I’m sure the cold shoulder would have lasted longer if the meeting hadn’t taken place. She continued to voice her frustration by throwing me under the bus and telling the boss that I was making too many mistakes and she had to correct them. I flat out told her that she should tell me when that happens so I know what to correct and so that I can fix them myself.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so insulted in all my life. Even with all the bullying I’ve been through, this beats it all. I feel like I’m being persecuted for something out of my control. I’m sick, not lazy. Which, by the way, she is constantly posting things online about how her coworker is lazy, but then joking about it to me, hoping I think it’s funny too. (There are 4 employees including the two owners). There’s always a passive aggressive comment about people on medication, or those who can’t walk in heels. I feel they are directed at me at least half the time.
Nothing is worth this feeling. Nothing is worth feeling like I’m hated for being sick. If it’s my fault, I’ll take ownership, but so far, no doctor has told me it is. So far, everything points to stress.
This job isn’t helping and I really feel like I have nowhere to turn.