I woke with this fear, what am I leaving when I'm done here?

I've had a pretty rough few weeks. I'm all fun and games on the surface but I've actually run myself into the ground and was just envisioning myself blowing up school.

Ain't that a pleasant image!

On the surface, I'm getting along okay. A few cracks here and there. Otherwise happy, involved, on top of things. On the surface. If I could be the person the world sees on the surface I would be the perfect person. Going great guns at school, on top of the work, managing work and a social life, friends, family. Everything. But I am detached.

I bawled my eyes out no less than twice last week. Evidently my own physical exhaustion makes it difficult to stay in control. This does not sit well with me. Especially given the chinks were exposed in public - first at school and then at work. I can't hide behind tiredness forever - though I will try. Why? Because it's half the truth. Between school and work I don't sleep much. I can't cut school due to my mother and for my own wellbeing I won't cut work. Both are, essential. Which is unfortunate I guess.

I don't know what to do. I can accept that I need some serious help, but am indecisive about taking the next step.

Just keep trying to get on I guess. Wish us luck.

- Sky

I used to be a fortress

My armour is my life. Without it I’d have imploded, exploded, become completely unhinged and given up many years ago. 

But the chinks in my armour have become exposed.

It’s penetrated and I’m wounded.

Shaken to my absolute core.

I don’t know how to fix it.

I no longer have the tools.

I don’t know what to do.

People are always asking me about my future and once upon a time I had it loosely mapped out.

But now, I’m lost in the sea of indecision and in the middle of cyclone torment and I don’t know what to do about ‘tomorrow’.

I’m scared of what it brings.

I fear it.

I don’t want it.

I have no need of it.

It only ever has bad things to say, and I can’t handle anymore bad things.

No more life changing experiences.

I am ill-prepared.

Shaking.

Fear.

The lung man is the ultimate bearer of bad news.

Worse then when the pain people told me all my pain was in my head.

I cannot deal with the things he has to say.

I don’t have that impenetrable strength anymore.

Not while I’m wounded, and scared. 

I no longer want that future.

I don’t think it’s worth it.

Not when I have to suffer this never ending pain.

I’m shutting down.

Shutting people out.

I’m so scared.

I cannot explain how scared.

But I am terrified. 

It’s eating me, laughing at me, hanging off me and consuming me.

I don’t know which way to look.

Who to tell.

Who to trust.

Which walls to rebuild.

Which to tear down.

Where to confide.

To give up, or to battle on.

But, to battle on for what?

Or Maybe I'm Just a Dreamer

Ran my excersise stress test. Predictably it went rather badly, lets be honest. I didn’t even manage ten minutes on the treadmill and the attending cardio tried to get me to admit that I’m just horrendously unfit, but seeing as this is simply not true, I will not answer to such a claim.

I mean, I work in racing, I walk nearly 2km’s, at least five times throughout the morning. I am not that unfit and I will not be forced into admitting it.

Anyway, somehow my knees didn’t bust - which is nice - but I did get off the treadmill all light headed and the like, nearly didn’t make the two steps from the treadmill to the bed so they could ultrasound my heart! They said to me “that’s pretty normal” to which I thought “shit, I wonder why!” You are not permitted to eat or drink two hours prior to doing the test. Dizziness is normal… no, really!?

So, my heart function is normal, surprise surprise, but then that isn’t the problem. The attending cardio also noticed that the pressure in my lungs was off - but I knew that - that’s the pulmonary hypertension. 

That’s why I see a pulmonologist.

But its how I got here that bugs me. I am so unbelievably angry. I refuse to accept that this anger is irrational because it isn’t. And I want to beat my head against the wall because I can’t get my head around any of it. I just don’t understand how and/or where everything went so wrong for me. Is it malpractice? I’ve seen so many doctors: GPs and Specialists, and all but one of them pressed on with this med time and time again. I understand that a tiny, tiny minority of people will experience the trouble I’m having with this med, but surely after nearly five years of this recurring symptom someone would have gone “now hang on a minute, this can’t be right?” before now? Guess not.

It’s really just scary to think that we put so much trust and faith into doctors and look what can happen! Sometimes they just get it wrong, and their mistakes change lives - and not for the better. There’s every chance I will have this condition for the rest of my life, and it’s just not fair.

Whatever I did in a past life must have been pretty evil.

- Sky

I Miss You

It's not the same anymore, and I miss you.