Something about being in Coles supermarket sets my bum off.
I don’t know what it is.
Probably because my ass hates me and wants to poo when I’m the furtherest away from a working toilet possible.
This time, a toilet was only about 500 meters away. Lucky me.
So I was in Coles with an armful of lovely junk food when my stomach rumbled and I knew – as we all do – that I had about 2 minutes to find a toilet.
That 2 minutes was going by entirely too fast for my liking.
I didn’t bother paying for my groceries – that’s how much of a hurry I was in to get to a toilet. I just put them on a random shelf and I RAN for the nearest toilet.
“Closed for cleaning” read the sign on the Ladies’ toilets.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?
Now, I was DESPERATE.
I was in a public shopping mall, far from home and not willing to explode in my pants. There would be nowhere to shower and get clean so I’d have to figure this one out. FAST.
I shuffled uncomfortably up to the next set of toilets in the mall, alternating my prayers between “Please. PLEASE don’t let me poo myself now” and “please let the next loos be open and not full. No line, please God. Please”
Ah! Success! No sign on the door and a free cubicle when I got there. YES!!!
Frantic, I slammed the door once I got in. I hurriedly hung my handbag on the hook and was in SUCH A MAD HURRY to get my pants down that when I pulled on my jeans, I DISLOCATED MY LEFT THUMB.
But there was no time for even that.
Just no time.
Pants off, do the deed…that’s all I had time for.
AFTERWARDS, though…my thumb was throbbing with pain.
It had slid back into place on it’s own (Thank you, Jesus) but it hurt terribly – as if I had broken it.
IT HURT SO MUCH.
When a part of your body hurts, it suddenly becomes the only part of your body you’re aware of.
My left thumb was so painful to move, I cradled it carefully with my other hand for days afterwards. I used it gently, so carefully and if I caught it on a door handle, on a button or knob (shut up, Marc) or just accidentally brushed it against something – OH MY GOD THE PAIN. It was like breaking it. It was awful.
That’s how I think I am emotionally right now – in a fragile state.
Normally, I wouldn’t even THINK about my thumbs. They’re there. I use ’em. Great.
But when my thumb was injured, it took up a lot of my thoughts “Be careful” “take pain killers” “hold it close to my body so it doesn’t catch on anything”
And that’s how I was emotionally. Normally I’m fairly happy. Fairly tough. Pretty resiliant and a good, kind, positive person.
Now, I’m dislocated. I’m hurt, confused, angry and tired. I’m not myself.
I have to be extremely careful with my heart and soul. Extremely protective with my time.
It hurt me to talk to anyone – whether they were a beloved friend, my parents or even a guy on the street. ANY contact with ANYONE felt like having my heart bruised and bent. Twisted and hurt all over again.
So I uninstalled Facebook. I shut down a lot of social media. I tried my best to cancel plans and just come away from the world and just be alone, safe and healing at home where I feel the most comfortable.
I’ve been so blessed by friends who understand. Christabel has been especially thoughtful and kind, messaging “You don’t have to text back”. Other friends have texted “Hey, love you” or “Thinking of you xx” and that’s helped me so much because I don’t need to ‘bend my heart to breaking point’ to respond. Even if a friend says “Hey” and I need to respond “Hey” back, it HURTS terribly to do so. My friend Cat sends me pictures of things she’s coloured in and it’s really sweet. But texting back “oh that’s lovely” feels like someone bending my thumb backwards. I don’t know why. It is just so hard to engage with anyone right now.
I’m angry. I’m irritable. I don’t sleep because I stay up every night worrying about EVERYTHING there could possibly be to worry about.
I’m so tired and so fed up you guys.
I thought I would be ready to jump back into work and ‘being a grown ass person’ again this week after my lovely 4 days off last week but it’s all too much.
I have a psychiatrist (so not George) appointment in an hour.
Wish me luck.