I had a visit to a specialist yesterday, on the way home the wife described the news as promising. I wasn’t so sure.
I decided to ponder why she would be upbeat but I would be apprehensive and could only think back to my childhood for an explanation.
In the homes you would see children go on holidays to farms to work and be a companion for their children. Most left at the end hoping to be invited back next school holidays. An invitation that never came.
A lot of the time you were taken just to fill the gap left by a family member who was on a school excursion or holidays with friends but of course this you were never told as it would have been counter productive to their needs.
For some of us hope is something dangled like bait on the end of a fishing line, used to get us to behave or act in accordance with their wishes only to be withdrawn at the last instance.
Any offer that is to good to be true usually is and hope is the same. Something to be viewed with suspicion, something to be scrutinised to try and see what the other person has to gain. What’s in it for them and what harm it poses to you.
Or is it as my wife sees it a possible light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
Carbs, our go to food when things could be better. Be it cupcakes, Nutella or my favourite chips we crave the brief feeling of pleasure they bestow upon us.
But what do we do when carbs aren’t enough, when things are so bad you need something that makes you feel alive?
I’ve heard that term used by adrenalin junkies, that they chase the rush so that they feel alive. This is different this isn’t the need to spice up your life that I’m referring to, it’s when you have reached a point for whatever reason where you feel no connection with those around you. Be they family, friends or even complete strangers. You are hollow inside. You hunger.
You no longer feel part of humanity. You need to feel alive.
How do you reconnect to humanity? How do you feel alive? How do you fill the void?
I seek out pain and I’m not to concerned what form it takes as long as the void is filled. It could take the form of pain and range from hitting a brick wall to picking a fight with 4 or 5 guys so that they could inflict as much damage upon me as possible. Or it could take the form of pleasure, long finger nails raked down your back, to whips or even a lovely lady walking down your back wearing stilettos.
All can fill the void by various amounts and periods of time depending on the type and intensity of the pain but what do you do when the pain is not enough?
I haven’t felt the need for real pain for many years though I’ve still longed for the pleasure but now the hunger is back.
I’ve been told what I feel and how I handle it isn’t normal.
What is normal? How do normal people fill the void? How do they feel alive when it all becomes to much?
One of my all time favourite bands and pretty much the only one that speaks to me. https://youtu.be/JAcQ5r5nG6o
Things change and life is never simple.
I know I don’t blog often and when I do its pretty bland. With the above line in mind I am giving advanced warning to the 3 or 4 people that follow this blog that in the future you might want to unfollow if you are of a sensitive nature.
I’m not sure where I am going with this I just know if i blog I wouldn’t want to read it.
I recently spent a couple of days in hospital.
My second day was spent on a ward and in the bed next to me was deposited a man in his 60’s with diabetes, which type I’m not sure. Anyone who has spent time in hospital will tell you it’s pretty boring and no matter what tv leads you to believe those flimsy curtains are not soundproof 😯
To cut a long story short a Diabetic Educator was called and proceeded to talk to him. Every question she asked was answered with diversion, when asked what meter he used she received a 15min history of every meter he had ever owned and the people who had given him the meters.
Let’s just say that was one of the better things I heard that day from a man who was assured he had his diabetes under perfect control even though he never saw a HCP more than once unless they told him what he wanted to hear.
Whilst we spend time telling stories of our bad experiences with HCP’S sometimes it’s good to see the other side of the coin.
I wonder what stories my HCP’s tell about me?