LastLoveLetter
Persephone
- Mar 28, 2021
- 661
The dead know what they're doing when they leave this world behind
When the here and the hereafter momentarily align
See the need to speed into the lead suddenly declined
The dead know what they're doing when they leave this world behind
- Nights That Won't Happen by Purple Mountains
I was listening to the Purple Mountains album tonight, not for the first time, but it has been a while. And these are the lyrics that reverberate in my mind, that resonate to the very core. That song - and the entire album - was always impactful, for me. But not in the way it was tonight.
And I think it's because my own end feels increasingly near.
Now, let's be honest, I have said something to this effect before. Perhaps multiple times during the course of my time here. This feels...different.
For the past few months, I've had this recurring dream about clocks - about time. Of course, I analysed it to oblivion, like I do with anything and everything. There were a few theories: That I feel I have fallen behind in life, that I'm always putting pressure on myself to be on par with my peers (based on subjective, arbitrary criteria, such as "I should be X by my age"), that I always feel as though I'm lagging and failing to catch up, that my time is limited.
These could all be correct, but the thought that I'm physically running out of time, as in dying - far more imminently - hadn't sprung to mind. I have multiple incurable chronic conditions, including a lifelong disability since birth that has left me partially paralysed. So I have known for a while now, that I was doomed to decades of staggering deterioration, that my only "hope" was coping and management. Not improvement. Not a cure.
It's not my only reason for being suicidal for 28 years (I'm 32, so these thoughts began very early), but it's one of the main factors, aside from a harrowing history of abuse and trauma that forever haunts me.
Having to watch my mobility decline and my health worsen for years, without the capacity to stop it or even stall it. No help from those who have a duty of care to treat people like me. No family or loved ones to help me stay afloat. As such, I've drowned. Slowly. Painfully. Desolately.
The realisation that time truly is running out - literally - became clear in recent weeks, when my health took yet another turn. The last week in particular, it has reached its peak.
The doctor reckons something is wrong with my liver. I don't know what, reluctant to find out and don't need the additional stress of more health issues that medical professionals aren't going to help me with.
My heart feels like it's struggling and straining - as though someone is clenching it with their fist and squeezing it tightly. This began as a fleeting sensation, only occuring some nights, particularly during a period of fasting or limited food. Now it's daily, not only at night and not just when I haven't eaten.
I'm finding myself increasingly bedridden again, increasingly fatigued again, increasingly shivering and cold, my lips and hands and feet turning blue even with the covers pulled up and the heating on. I feel increasingly weak, and in a dissociative daze of pain and lifelessness.
It feels distinct from the last period during which I was largely bedbound for a prolonged period. That was still awful and debilitating and hopeless, certainly, but this feels as though whatever force keeps the lights on, is slowly dimming. And will eventually be extinguished, whether it's by my body's doing or mine.
It feels like it's the end of the line, like systems are truly shutting down. Like my body is saying "I'm sorry, I can't do it anymore." And my options are to see it through to the end, or shorten it. Accelerate the process. And I'm not sure which road to take.
Despite the ups and downs I've had here at times, there are many of you, who I value and appreciate. There are memories and people - including those who are no longer with us - I'm grateful for and cherish. There are stages in my life in recent years during which this site kept me alive, served as the float I needed to keep my head above water, even for a few moments from time to time. I really appreciate that, and want to say thank you.
And I want to simply say goodbye, before it's too late.
When the here and the hereafter momentarily align
See the need to speed into the lead suddenly declined
The dead know what they're doing when they leave this world behind
- Nights That Won't Happen by Purple Mountains
I was listening to the Purple Mountains album tonight, not for the first time, but it has been a while. And these are the lyrics that reverberate in my mind, that resonate to the very core. That song - and the entire album - was always impactful, for me. But not in the way it was tonight.
And I think it's because my own end feels increasingly near.
Now, let's be honest, I have said something to this effect before. Perhaps multiple times during the course of my time here. This feels...different.
For the past few months, I've had this recurring dream about clocks - about time. Of course, I analysed it to oblivion, like I do with anything and everything. There were a few theories: That I feel I have fallen behind in life, that I'm always putting pressure on myself to be on par with my peers (based on subjective, arbitrary criteria, such as "I should be X by my age"), that I always feel as though I'm lagging and failing to catch up, that my time is limited.
These could all be correct, but the thought that I'm physically running out of time, as in dying - far more imminently - hadn't sprung to mind. I have multiple incurable chronic conditions, including a lifelong disability since birth that has left me partially paralysed. So I have known for a while now, that I was doomed to decades of staggering deterioration, that my only "hope" was coping and management. Not improvement. Not a cure.
It's not my only reason for being suicidal for 28 years (I'm 32, so these thoughts began very early), but it's one of the main factors, aside from a harrowing history of abuse and trauma that forever haunts me.
Having to watch my mobility decline and my health worsen for years, without the capacity to stop it or even stall it. No help from those who have a duty of care to treat people like me. No family or loved ones to help me stay afloat. As such, I've drowned. Slowly. Painfully. Desolately.
The realisation that time truly is running out - literally - became clear in recent weeks, when my health took yet another turn. The last week in particular, it has reached its peak.
The doctor reckons something is wrong with my liver. I don't know what, reluctant to find out and don't need the additional stress of more health issues that medical professionals aren't going to help me with.
My heart feels like it's struggling and straining - as though someone is clenching it with their fist and squeezing it tightly. This began as a fleeting sensation, only occuring some nights, particularly during a period of fasting or limited food. Now it's daily, not only at night and not just when I haven't eaten.
I'm finding myself increasingly bedridden again, increasingly fatigued again, increasingly shivering and cold, my lips and hands and feet turning blue even with the covers pulled up and the heating on. I feel increasingly weak, and in a dissociative daze of pain and lifelessness.
It feels distinct from the last period during which I was largely bedbound for a prolonged period. That was still awful and debilitating and hopeless, certainly, but this feels as though whatever force keeps the lights on, is slowly dimming. And will eventually be extinguished, whether it's by my body's doing or mine.
It feels like it's the end of the line, like systems are truly shutting down. Like my body is saying "I'm sorry, I can't do it anymore." And my options are to see it through to the end, or shorten it. Accelerate the process. And I'm not sure which road to take.
Despite the ups and downs I've had here at times, there are many of you, who I value and appreciate. There are memories and people - including those who are no longer with us - I'm grateful for and cherish. There are stages in my life in recent years during which this site kept me alive, served as the float I needed to keep my head above water, even for a few moments from time to time. I really appreciate that, and want to say thank you.
And I want to simply say goodbye, before it's too late.
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