the last burnt sienna crayon

Well, it’s a new year. And unlike my usual tendancy, I have not made much mark of it. In fact I have tried my hardest not to make too much mention of myself, not to be too visible. I figure that if in other years I have generally not tried to quell my natural extroversion, and other years have been stressful and difficult, then perhaps I should try something different this year and perhaps the year will go differently too.

Perhaps not. Everytime I try to wear this invisibility cloak, it ends up inadvertently slipping off. It’s very slippery. Or perhaps it just doesn’t fit too well.

On a practical note about this blog, you may have already noticed, that if you now approach this blog directly by entering it’s url, you will only see the two existing pages that have been posted (just not static on the front page until now) for many months now. However if you click on the link for an individual post, as listed on the wibsite.com homepage, you will be able to read it.

I know that my reasoning for doing things is usually only comprehensible to me, myself and I, so I won’t bother to try to explain.

it’s a strange thing.

it’s a strange thing to wake up one morning after twelve years in a practical drug induced coma and find that nothing hurts anymore. Just that quickly.

No, not a coma, because there was still life there, just an altered one. More of a zombie, than a coma. It’s a complex explanation, what I mean by that, but it doesn’t feel that urgent to elucidate right now. Suddenly, I don’t feel that I have to.

My friends haven’t even relised. People are still acting towards me as if I worry, as if I’m anxious or sad. They say “oh don’t worry… blah blah blah” and pass on pieces of advice to help me through the crisis. . . when I’m no longer actually in one. They mean well. But’s it’s clear that my old state of anxiety made others anxious, and I am sorry to have been a burden. I don’t know who I am yet, myself, so I don’t say anything and I smile and nod. . . and wait until either I’m better at explaining or anybody wants to know enough to ask me something about it.

I have very little memory other than things that I have written either on my blogs or in my journals, and I don’t necessarily currently want to review.

Recently, after I woke up, I got curious as to what had happened, so I went to my doctor and asked to be made a print out of every perscription drug that I had been perscribed since 1997 and the date ranges that I was on each. This is a small charge, but my right to ask for under the Data Protection Act.

The print out came to 50 pages.

450 individual perscriptions, some repeated for years, some one offs.

I counted 38 oral medications, 22 topical skin allergy treatments, 20 individual perscriptions for 7 different antibiotics and 6 different anti depressants perscribed over 12 years (one of which, I had been on for several years and at several different times, but is now removed from the market, because patients started dying of liver failure while being on it).

Some of the drugs were as benign as moisturising lotion and ibuprofen, others as strong as pethidine, immunosupressants, an anti-narcoleptic and 3 different antipsychotics (percribed to me not for mental health reasons, but because they were known to have helped in various MS symptom treatment, like pain and virtigo. And no, they didn’t help me.) just to name a few.

Plus the list did not include any medication that I had been given during my 4 or 5 lengthy stays in hospital or scripts written directly by my consultants.

I have researched the side effects of each one and looked at the number of various ‘drug cocktails’ I was on and also tried to align what I was taking when different things happened in my life, and the pattern is shocking. I feel like I can be less hard on myself for having achieved so little over that time. I am aware that several of the things that I was on, and combinations thereof, nearly killed me. Litteraly, not figuratively. It feels a bit traumatising to realise that, and I’m not fully able to think about that yet.

This morning I sneezed and took an anti-histamine and my daily multivitamin. That was all I took. I’m ‘clean’.

I’ve weaned off of everything else, even the self injections.

It’s all out of my system and my brain and body has now got used to making and using it’s own chemicals again. (brains stop doing it for themselves after having it done for them after awhile.)

I feel good.

I haven’t had a panic attack since 18th of July, and I’m not even anxious about possibly having one anymore. I barely remember what it feels like. That doesn’t sound like a long time. But the difference is amazing!

I can pray again for the first time in a very long time. I won’t get into the spiritual side of all of this right now, but there is one. I don’t recognise myself, but I’m happy to wait… because for the first time in 12 years, I’m calm enough to do that. I’m hoping that I actually have another 12 to wait in.

It will be good to meet you all. . . again.

My faith story has been more of a “crawling towards the finish line, panting for water, clutching hold of whatever I’ve got left and trying not to drop it or get hit by a car” kind of experience rather than a “thunderbolt, zap, bang, Damascus Road, WOOHOO, Word from God” kind of “wow everything’s so different now” kind of experience. . .

. . . until about two weeks ago. But I kind of think that if I had met Jesus on the Damascus Road, it would have been a lot easier to talk about than what actually happened.

I just wanted to say that. That’s all for now, but I just thought I’d say that.

I feel like i’ve been gone a long time. I feel that I have not spoken to you in an age, dear reader, though it has been only days, not even a week. Though when so much can happen in one afternoon (not today, nor yesterday, but not long ago), it feels that you have not seen others in a long, long time. if ever before. and it will require new eyes, in both directions, to see at all.

I think that I have been gone longer than anyone could have known. For 17 years, I have been gone, but just as the wrongly accused is released from prison late in life, one can not walk free as the same person who was arrested in their youth.

It is good to be back, to be here. . . and to know the place for the first time.

. . . through the unknown remembered gate
when the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning. . .

well, i’ve been back in the homeland for nearly two weeks now. it has been the most overwhelming trip, and i will need some time alone before i can attempt to think about or describe it. i will return to the chosen land in just a couple days now, and it will be interesting to see what ‘changes’ (in how many ways) may come about because of my time here.

memory can be difficult to understand or explain, but let me tell you, it’s palpable to experience.

the clear and sunny but frosty weather of new year’s eve has given way to a darker and cloudier yet still frosty new year’s day. that’s ok though. i’m in front of the open flame gas fire watching my monthly direct debit drift hypnotically up the chimney in a blaze of orange and blue. i’m warm and content sitting here with a cup of tea, a shortbread biscuit and my red slippers, catching occasional waftings of the scent of the new year’s day pork and saurkraut from the kitchen, an old pennsylvania dutch tradition for new year’s good luck that my family have followed for as long as i can remember. i don’t recall anyone particularly liking saurkraut, it was just what you did. and now the pungent, biting smell has become pleasant to me in recalling the years past when my family stretched back further and wider than a decade or a tiny island.

the flower child seems to be going through another developmental spurt. one of those vague changes of language, thought and ability that one can’t quite quantify or put a finger on. i like when she has weeks like that, where i watch her grow up right under my nose. she seemed to even like me this morning, wanting me to be with her and asking me on multiple occasions to “mummy play”, which is a real development in our relationship and one that i pray is an indication of future growth there too. so after crashing her cars, and making pretend snowballs she went down for a nap this afternoon, and now, as predicted i am not welcome to be in her presence again. nevermind. i’ll wait. oh, here she is. maybe she’d like to catch a few snowballs?

i know that 2009 will be an improvement on 2008. who knows i may even sort myself, my career and my family out by 2010?