It's definitely not an option, to go out for a beer more often. I briefly considered it as a possibility, a tiny window of escape from this prison. I am not bound and I will not be beaten in my prison, (definitely not by a human), in addition; my mind is free. And yet such an undertaking; have a beer go in “violent” Experience for the organism of a moderate ME sufferer, and, as strange as that sounds: it is an undertaking, which subsequently retaliates in some form of violence, like any activity more or less. And this violence, the neuroimmune pain, the weakness pain from the cells, the pain of nausea, the pain of fever, the bone etc., can only be prevented, when living in isolation, speak: if possible lies in bed and does not expose himself to stimuli.
The venture, Having a beer on the town on a Friday night after many years, gets such status in the life of a longtime bedridden, that reality can only shatter on it. Or in other words: I could only have another life under the most ideal of circumstances, in a cocoon, so to speak, in which only the most delicate, sensitive people have access, I would have to live, in a paradise …. but you have to create a paradise! And to create it yourself, you have to look at the “force” expose, even the most frail and sickly body has to ….
The charms of a nocturnal exit have always turned into an improbable distress when waking up the next day, a kind of after-stimulus, which is hard to bear. It really is like that, that the brain in ME is filterless, but at the same time one experiences prolonged, when the crash comes, all the experiences or stimuli again, only this time not stunned, but awake with hallucinations, as little needles, which sting the entire sensorium for several hours.
It hurts a lot, this neurosensitive stimulus filter disorder, although at the same time this lowered threshold of sensual perception could be a source of happiness and intoxication …. on a lot, much smaller etheric level, understood.
I do not want to say, that my crash lasted too long today or that it was exceptionally brutal. He lasted about 2 Hours, and was just a little stronger than I normally experience upon awakening, over many, many days. Then you just can't get up, do not move, not rain, you're just so weak, that you can't even make it to the toilet, and this weakness makes awakening already feel like an act of violence …..
I have at that time, when I was still exhausting myself at the exit, for hours, experienced hangovers for days, in which I rolled, sweating. Of course I drank too much, but that never explained those insane reactions after a night out. I did not know, that I already had ME, and I didn't know, as I was able to tell an acquaintance late at night, that I can't have breakfast or other jokes with her, because at six o'clock in the morning my hangover started, and by that time I had to be invisible and gone, to pay my score for 3 to 14 Days.
I still have it, as I said, by years 2007, always repeated. I just had to go dancing and drinking, i had to try, to find a person to merge with, to live …. I did not know, where else to look, I worked in a day care center.
But then, as I said, I stopped, because I couldn't take the violence anymore on the level of an additional alkyne intoxication. And now, many years later, this violence is part of the agenda without, that I have any “sins” commit, without, that I give myself away…..dance exuberantly, loose, hop around ….. put my face in others … well, maybe I'm old too.
But still: when a beer drinking for 2 Hours, once a week at night, has such a brutal impact on the organism, then what can I expect? Everything, what i will try, to move me in any way from this sadness of stagnation and love lost, can only hurt, because I have a right change, need a proper move, now, after so many years of discipline and perseverance in the same, to give my psyche a chance, somehow to be happy again ….
But how will that work? The body is not just a body, he is the vessel, the instrument, which reflects all my feelings and perceptions …. would he be healthy, he would cushion any excessive feeling, Is he ill, he suffers from cellular weakness to the extent of ME, then he can not cushion the feelings …. and this really has nothing to do with Borderline PS, the hyperreactivity, the BPS is just another obstacle, because a person with BPD inherently experiences excessive emotions …. when he sees them, because it is often empty, completely empty.
What I actually want to say, is: that there really isn't much you can do, without enduring the subsequent physical violence of the neuroimmune crash over and over again. And that the level of activity must be so small, that it can no longer satisfy the needs of the psyche in the long run …. that the psyche must die or endure the terror again and again, physically, primarily, clear, but also mentally …. because repeated physical violence traumatizes the psyche, bears them down like a rock …. one cannot remain mentally unscathed, if this loop is repeated for years …. either will the longing and the hunger, finally to live, so powerful, that one accepts irreversible bodily harm and death … or you have to numb yourself like that in some way, that the need for life and experience, Participate, experiences, movements, changes of location etc., dies…… and this, again, only works with excessive physical pain, when agony dictates survival at the lowest level for weeks or months … so yes, one forgets the longing for the real life again ….. and she's only coming back, when there is a minimum of strength.
This minimum is not sufficient for moderate-severe ME, to participate in life. It's not enough for a small job, not for a leisure activity outside the home, not for a day trip, not for regular psychotherapy, Not, to maintain relationships …. and … and, actually neither, to have a beer for an hour or two once a week.
So it's not worth it, to live with this disease. Because life, that would mean never having to ask about wages or price …..life would mean, plunge in, to test this and that, to be allowed to err, to make mistakes, changing concepts, to throw overboard, to be spontaneous, to endure many idles, much to invest ….. etc. You simply don't have a choice with ME. And because you have no choice, there is no second or third pillar. There is no plan B. No alternative.
And therefore, therefore, I probably won't be able to write any other way. Not, as long as my heart carries this scream and this trauma on its sleeve and all the softer notes, all trips to a fictitious Otherland so much more difficult. I know, that I can travel virtually, that I have my imagination, that I should turn my imagination away from reality …. but I only do it sporadically. Maybe, because the purely virtual, really no longer has a component that can be experienced with the senses. Because it's empty.
(15.5.22)