There are times when the issues with my physical health distressingly resembles a set-up of tumbling dominoes: a flare-up leads to the usual struggles with breathing and ridding myself of yet another chest infection which leads to much coughing and strain on the diaphragm which leads to muscles being pulled which leads to serious levels of pain which leads to a tendency to breathe even more shallowly because deeper breaths hurt those pulled muscles which leads to less effective clearance of infection and so on and so on.
And this time around it hasn’t been the intercostal muscles, those which work the diaphragm itself, which have been damaged, it’s been stomach muscles (try coughing without your abdomen being involved, in fact try breathing without using your abdomen) which were seriously torn up last week and have somehow also led to similarly debilitating pain in my leg and hip the last couple of days. I can out weight on the leg but spasms of pain mean I’m constantly uncertain if it will give way in me. Luckily it has not yet done so but I’ve not tested it out any further than from bedroom to kitchen.
The final domino is my mental health. Sometimes I don’t leave my apartment for a day or two by choice, I hope myself up with coffee and food and work on recording music or doing bits of writing. Or, if I’m less inspired, I just read or watch crap in Netflix. But to be kept inside by unreliable limbs and by the more long term impact of this flare-up is depressing. Well, to be accurate, it is initially something which makes me quite anxious but inevitably anxiety is too hectic a state of mind to maintain for overly long so depression sweeps over me like a calming blanket that is in reality infested with smallpox and fleas.
Yes, I did hope you thought of how terribly the Europeans treated Native American people when I wrote the word ‘smallpox’ in relation to ‘blanket’. It has nothing to do with the overall tone of this depressing post but at leas proves I am capable of thinking about more than my own self-interested shit for a second or two.
There are things I want to do in life, things I want to change. These flare-ups make me less convinced I have the strength or wherewithal to bring about the changes I now deem necessary to my overall wellbeing. Which is why I’m currently having therapy to try to find more positives even in these darker days. Guess what, I was unable to get to therapy today because of my stupid body failing me. What was that I said yesterday about being kicked in the cock? Even the universe is at it now.