The Battle Is Lost… The War Rages On

I have had a shitty week. No other way to say it really. I am more and more a creature of habit, and this week I have been thrown out of my routine. I have more of the same to look forward to next week so I better get used to the idea. I have been holding up pretty well, but today I lost the battle. In the four days so far this week I have had diarrhea or nausea or both every day. I work in sales and spend the majority of my day driving about visiting people with very limited access to restrooms. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stand in front of people feeling that you are going to puke or fill your shorts at any second and keep a smile painted on your face. The nausea is unsettling and makes me a little panicky and the cramping is flat painful only adding to my worry. My boss would never know if I just didn’t bother with it making it take every ounce of my mental strength to get through the day.  It is exhausting and I am not going to lie about it some customers get skipped because I just cant stand that thought of getting out of my vehicle.

I am not proud of the impact this issue has on my job and I could pretty much make it stop if I just started taking those stupid pills again, but for reasons posted yesterday I am in no hurry to get back on medication. What really has me upset this evening is that I was supposed to go to a meeting tonight and I am not going. I am tired of being in front of the public all day feeling sick, and I don’t want to voluntarily subject myself to it any more today. The problem is I am already feeling awful about not attending. I feel like I have let myself down. I feel empty, hollow even, like a failure because I am letting my stomach make decisions for me. Like everything else it seems I am faced with a choice I am tired of making. I can go to the meeting and maybe feel like shit or maybe not it’s really a roll of the dice, or I can stay home and mope and feel sad, tired and useless which is pretty much a guaranteed result of staying home. The anxiety and uncertainty of leaving the house or the known misery of staying home and I pick the known misery. Seriously… Why the fuck would I do that? I have to find a way to get a handle on this.


8 thoughts on “The Battle Is Lost… The War Rages On

  1. I understand choosing the known misery. In a sense, even though it’s misery, it’s comforting because it’s familiar. The other option, though, is unfamiliar, which can cause anxiety, I think.

  2. Aaaw, C, it really has been that kind of week, hasn’t it? I’m just crawling back up from the bottom tonight, and I’m familiar with that feeling of “I feel like a failure for _____.” (The bathtub incident?) You just wish you could make a choice in the clear, completely uninfluenced by brain chemistry, the past, the movements of the body, physiology, what have you. Oh, how I wished we could live in a vacuum sometimes. I am so sorry that you’ve been unwell. Truly. That sounds awful.

    As awful as it must be to have to stand there in the presence of customers while your stomach is cramping and your guts are churning (you poor thing. Lord….how do you smile feeling like that?) C, you are not a failure because your brain chemistry, thus, your physiology won’t cooperate. Failure is an event, not an identity. What’s more, you are making certain choices to preserve and cultivate relationship which is laudable. Because of that choice, your limits are different. Your spectrum might be different than the next guy’s who may very well be enjoying augmented limits due to taking the very drugs you choose not to take, but that has nothing to do with failure or your identity as a man. For whatever reason, and only you know them, it’s high anxiety time for you right now (does it ebb and flow?), and your body and brain are talking to you. Because of your life and circumstances, you have to function at the edge of your limits–perhaps beyond them. That is what your life is demanding of you. Or, perhaps what you are demanding of you. Only you can answer that. Again, not failure.

    I’m not chastising you. The other night, when you “spoke” to me about reading other posts online, keeping their words in context, I felt chastised by your words. I’m sensitive sometimes, but when I reread what you wrote, I got it. My “filter” was one of feeling inadequate. I have to fight that. Other men have insinuated to me that I’m “broken” and unfixable because of what’s happened to me–I should just give up and accept my lot. I have to make sure I don’t wear that filter. You were right. My road is different. I can’t compare, and that’s what I was doing. I was playing the Fairness card which doesn’t lead to anywhere good. C, I admire your choices. What you are doing, what you are sharing…it’s brave, and it means something although I know (*I KNOW*) it doesn’t feel like that. But, if you would just let me say this because I was there. I was there yesterday…be kind to yourself. I was not kind to myself yesterday. I was mean to her, and she deserves kindness. She’s been through hell, and she made it through another panic attack. She woke up to face another day. C, I want to extend kindess to you because you’ve come through so many rough rides, and you’ve gotten up the next day. And, even if you’ve felt like you “lost the battle”, you lived to fight another day. Sweetie, you deserve some kindess and some mercy and some rest for you weariness. Not condemnation or self-recrimination. So, lie back. Take a load off. Tomorrow is a new day. A big hug to you…..

    • I appreciate the kind words. It is a new day and I am at least back to where I started yesterday morning. You make good points about being kind to ourselves. It seems so obvious but as you know it is often the hardest thing to do. I do okay with it at times, but lately I have been struggling in general, and as I fight through each day and my energy wanes it gets harder to do.

      I apologize for making you feel attacked with my response the other day. I hesitated to even make that post, but I thought it might be helpful. I have been made to feel like shit by some of those same blogs for a different reason, and I found that reminding myself that I didn’t really know if there was any truth to what I was reading it helped some. I hoped that looking at them through the same lens would be helpful to you. I don’t believe you should just except you circumstances, and would never imply you are broken. You have been dealt cruel hand, and your experiences will always be part of you, but that doesn’t make you broken. This is the problem with the written word, the sounds of empathy and support don’t always translate, but trust me they are there.

      • C!!! I didn’t feel attacked. Chastised is different, *and* you were right. Because I was in a bad state of mind the truth was hard to hear. No apologies necessary. Truly. I don’t want you to apologize to me for speaking up. I value your point of view. Like I said before, I don’t have any male points of view that can comment on this. My husband doesn’t read any of this. He did, however, say what you said regarding the first person sex diaries–“They’re all full of shit.” He doesn’t really mince words.

        Anyway, I didn’t tell you how I felt to elicit an apology because it’s not necessary. I think it was to explain that sometimes, when we are in a moment of some kind of pain, it’s hard to be reasonable. At least it is for me. You were the voice of reason, explaining things, punching a hole in my personal drama. LOL…aaaah…women. And, once I came to my senses, I saw that you made sense. You weren’t scolding me. So, when I commented yesterday, that’s the point I was trying to make. Alas, I may have failed. Horribly. If that’s the case, then I may be the one saying, “Sorry”. I have to learn to hear that voice of reason when I’m in “the middle of it” or when I’m feeling vulnerable. So, this is practice for me, too.

      • Maybe “attacked” was too strong a word, but my own reaction to being chastised, belittled, or flat out attacked is pretty much the same… anger. I didn’t think you were fishing for an apology; I just wanted you to know that I had no intention of making you feel bad in anyway. Despite the differences in the experience I feel like we process things in a similar way, and I believe there is value in hearing what you have to say about things. I write in a mechanical way, and have never been able to convey emotion in my writing so I often worry that I will offend even when I have the best intentions. I am glad you saw what I was trying to accomplish.

      • ::grin:: Try and do something fun this weekend (I’m not being bossy). Currently, I am right in the middle of trying to stave off yet another panic attack. WTF!!!!! So, I’m thinking that coffee in the morning is not my friend until I get through whatever this is, and making immediate plans for something enjoyable to give me something to look forward to–even if it’s DECAF coffee with a friend, going to a bookstore is necessary…Gosh, anything. You’ve had a bad week. Fun. Do something fun. In the daylight. It’s too freakin’ dark already!

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