Updates and excuses PART II: THE BLAME GAME

Blame, faith and the peculiar perils of positive thinking...

In general, I try not to blame others or the world for things that go wrong. There seems little point; it doesn't achieve much, other than making you feel even more hard done by. I may have already mentioned before that my mother tells me all the time: Shit happens! That for years she has told me to tattoo it on my forehead so I don't forget! Shit does indeed happen; blame is pointless and doesn't always lead to action. And action is the quickest way out of the shit that is happening (or even away from the shit that's hitting the fans, or flowing in the creek you're stuck on without a paddle!)

In the aftermath of the CRPS spreading not only down to my right leg, but into both legs; I wondered for some time if I was to blame for this happening. Was it my fault for skating and cycling like a madwoman possessed? Was it my failure that Pain was beating me again? Could I have prevented this by taking more care? I should have known better than to go on the ice. I have CRPS; I knew that another injury/trauma can cause a spread. I was stupid to ice-skate in the first place! All this now: my arms, my legs – this is all my fault!

I think that when anyone has an illness or condition that is out of control, one of the first thoughts we have is: Did I bring this on myself? This implies that when shit happens, it must be because someone is actually doing the shitting. However, the shit in this increasingly unpleasant image, doesn't always necessarily follow from anyone doing this... metaphorically.

Dancing away despair and putting pain in its place...

With the past few months of flare-ups in my pain and the intense allodynia (pain from harmless things touching my skin, such as clothing or bedsheets), I haven't been my usual cheery self. However, I wouldn't say I'm depressed, nor even all that negative at the moment. It's interesting to note that I'm going through what I went through 3 years ago, but back then I was deeply depressed and suicidal. I felt I couldn't do it anymore - I couldn't live with this pain.  

Of course, over the past few weeks, there have been some tears, some cranky moments and some times I wanted to give up completely. I've had times where I've become so overwhelmed again by the weight of my pain-companion, that I'd bawled like a baby. I do feel hopeless on occasions, though these days I know that is only temporary. Sometimes I lose my control purely from the frustration I feel. 

I get in these moods where I stubbornly and rudely refuse any help, then end up bursting into tears from my own pig-headedness. I get into a mindset where I MUST do whatever it is, no matter how ridiculous or unnecessary. For those close to me, they would have seen this behaviour many times. Where they watch my pathetic attempts to do the simplest of tasks; "no I can do it ON MY OWN thanks!" while struggling to open something, or carry a bag. I can be downright rude, which isn't something I'm proud of.

It is usually something that they could very easily and very willingly do to help me. When they do help me out, I sometimes show some real ingratitude, which isn't good. Of all the times they cannot help me nor take away my pain; opening a bottle or chopping food is certainly do-able. I forget that my pain is something they live with too. I'm not the easiest person to live with! And if I graciously accepted their offered help, I would save my energy for the other tasks; the more fun and interesting things I do. Surely that makes more sense than working myself into a state!