It's just past 1:30 in the early afternoon, and I'm just having my first cup of coffee. It tastes wonderful. It's quite amazing, how we as a people have become so enamored of the beverage... addicted to it, yes, and we must have it, at all costs. If having to choose between coffee and toilet paper, I would buy Kleenex and coffee, no hesitation in thought at all.
Slept long and deep, mainly due to the pain meds I took earlier at 7:15 this morning. Two capsules. 1000 milligrams, every time. There were times, with the pain so great, that I would take three, making my stomach handle 1500 milligrams of the stuff, but I didn't do too well with that. It worked very well, yes, but I think it will be something that i will only do in great need, and I hope to be able to handle the pain with less than three capsules at a time in future.
Then I laid back down and slept until 11:30, and lay there for another half hour staring up at the ceiling, wondering, and the song from Alfie came to me... What's it all about...? Dionne could sing, oh, how she could wrap a song all around herself and make it hers and bring an audience to their feet!
But I was not able to arrive at an answer to my unspoken question, the one that I had in my mind, but was afraid to ask aloud... just what IS it all about, anyway? Mulling that over, and over and over and over again, I realize that I don't and won't have an answer any time soon, so I got up, showered, and got this cup of coffee.... and another two capsules, 1000mg. That should soften the pain a bit.
The physical pain, yes, but what about the other pains?
The mental pain, and the emotional pain... there are no drugs for those.
And I long ago learned that alcohol did nothing to silence those pains,
but just intensified them.
The mental pain of being who I am, how I am, the way things are for me.
I've been living with this particular pain for decades, and I'm either used to it, or I have given up. Since I think about it, I would hazard a guess that I am not used to it, because it is not comfortable at all... which it should be, for all the time it has been a companion, so I must have just given up. I likely have, as I am not the fighter I dream about being, that I was when I was fifty years younger... No, these days I am a tree hugger, in comparison to being a violent person. I will avoid confrontation as much as possible - I proved that to myself one cold and blustery Wednesday evening, taking the blows and the hits and the deepest of cuts, and turning and walking away.... I was no longer a fighter. I had seen too much violence from fighting in another world. So I caved. I thought it was the best thing to do. I was wrong, but you don't know things, sometimes, until much later, until it has been too long for so very long. Until the time has passed and there is no other option now but to weep.
Then there is the emotional pain, pain that comes from deep within,
from the concerns and deep alleyways of your heart and your mind, springing forth suddenly and without any warning, to try to trap you and wrap your emotions so tightly that you can hardly breathe, and, sometimes, to that point where you wish that you would stop breathing, because you know that, while it would be the beginning of nothing, at least it would be the ending of something.... something that hurts so terribly, and since it is of your own making, this particular pain, it will hurt just as terribly as you can make it hurt, as much as you can stand it, and you will just make it hurt worse and worse, because it is a self-induced penance, because you are not proud of yourself any more, you are not happy with the memories of that last innocent week leading up to that Wednesday evening, where you ignored the signs and refused to think the thoughts that you pushed down, refused to ask the questions that you pushed down, and in the final moments before the mirror of yourself shattered, refused to stand as you should have. You caved. Yes, I did. And I pay for that still today.
There are no pills, no capsules, no drugs for that pain.