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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 3 of 3. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Shame on November 23, 2005, at 10:12:13
Eight months. That’s how long it has been since my most recent round of treatment started. More meds. More doctors. Yet another psychologist. Maybe I will keep this one.90%, my doctor tells me, is the best I can ever hope for. 90% of normal. Dreams of being completely whole are gone, but then again 90% is still good considering where I started. I never seriously expected to get more than that anyway.
Am I better? Yes. Am I whole? Not by a mile. My past still echoes in my mind. Sometimes I hear or see things that bring it all back, and my breath draws short as my body suddenly remembers the way things were. My wife is listening to a song, Gary Jules singing Roland Orzabel's "Mad World". The slow melancholy of the lyrics reach my ears, and I hear :
'I find it kind of funny,
I find it kind of sad,
the dreams in which I'm dying,
are the best I've ever had."My god. I moan. Suddenly I'm in a shitty 1 bedroom apartment with 6 foot ceilings living with a girlfriend who hates my guts, but who can't afford to move out. I'm too tired to care. I'm in the bath, tears streaming down my face as I realize that my soul is already dead, and that my body refuses to die and follow my soul into oblivion. I know the people that truly love me would understand why I had taken my life if they understood. I can smell the aroma of the pine bath salts I added to my bath water. Might as well leave with something other than the smell of my own blood filling my nostrils. The razor is in my hand. I silently say goodbye, saddened that I will never see the Sommerlands. Never be in Her arms. There is no other way.
Up, not across.
My cell phone rings and I look over absently. It's my best friend. A man who has been with me for 20 years, through the best and worst parts of my life. More of a brother to me than my own brother ever has been. Estranged from my family, he is the only one that cares at all. It would be nice to talk to him one more time.
I answer. He's coming over. He's on the way, already on the road. Has something to tell me.
I owe him more than a greeting with dead, unseeing eyes. I pull the drain plug, dry and dress. Moments later he is at my door, smiling. Always smiling.
He knows. Maybe I reek of it, maybe he sees it in my eyes, maybe he knows I have no soul. That’s all OK. He and his wife have made room for me at his house, and I'm moving in. His truck is here, and we are moving. Now.
He saved my life, and he never had to reason with me. Never had to talk. Never had to ask. Maybe he never knew. We never talked about it. It makes me cry when I think of it.
All of that, flashing through my mind in a heartbeat. How can so much be conveyed in a single thought? Seems impossible. And now the man who saved my life is 1800 miles away. I would drive all that distance just to die for him if he needed me. I owe him everything.
My wife still doesn’t understand. Now I'm 'better'. Why dwell on the past? I tell her it's a part of me, just as your past is a part of you. The fact that my past is anguish and hers is nostalgia is irrelevant. We are all the sum of our past actions and experiences. Everything we do and see contribute to the pattern of our being.I wish she didn't have to understand at all. I wish that this wasn’t her problem. But then again, we all play the hand we are dealt, don't we?
Hope you are all feeling well. After all, we ARE all in this together.
Posted by Dr. Bob on November 23, 2005, at 21:19:53
In reply to In the Echos of my Mind *trig* (and the 'S' word!), posted by Shame on November 23, 2005, at 10:12:13
> Suddenly I'm in a sh[*]tty 1 bedroom apartment
Please don't use language that could offend others. Since you turned off automatic asterisking, I'm going to block you from posting for 1 week.
If you or others have questions about this or about posting policies in general, or are interested in alternative ways of expressing yourself, please see the FAQ:
http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/faq.html#civil
Follow-ups regarding these issues should be redirected to Psycho-Babble Administration. They, as well as replies to the above post, should of course themselves be civil.
Thanks,
Bob
Posted by alexandra_k on December 1, 2005, at 5:28:03
In reply to In the Echos of my Mind *trig* (and the 'S' word!), posted by Shame on November 23, 2005, at 10:12:13
(((Shame)))
Sorry I haven't responded before now.
When the doctors tell you '90% is the best you can hope for'
DON'T YOU BELIEVE THOSE BASTARDS
You can get to 120%
Maybe maybe
But don't internalise their limitations...
grr.I'm sorry about your block...
People have been protesting it over on the admin board (in case you didn't know)
Hope you are feeling okay...
And hope you come back to us once your block is over.((((Shame)))))
You take care.
This is the end of the thread.
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