Still Crazy

You’d think that after nearly seven years I’d be used to it – the terrible burning, stinging sensation in my hands, the tight banding feeling in my arms, the stabbing pain in my legs and hips. I’m not though.

I don’t want to be drugged out of my brain, that’s the trouble. I want to have a quality of life – I can still work part time and really feel as if I’m being at least partly useful.

But… but. Meeting new people is a nightmare. They always seem to want to shake hands. I don’t remember everyone insisting on this before. I suppose I didn’t notice. If they’ve got a fairly weak shake, it’s bad enough – but so often it’s a “bone crusher”. My hands hurt for hours afterwards.

Now I don’t mean to moan – and most of the time I keep quiet about it all, because who wants to know a moaner?

But… but.

It’s been getting to me. More and more. And more. To the point where I’m not sure I can actually deal with it. Not being able to scream and sob and shout at people, “can’t you see I’m in terrible pain?” To make it worse, acquaintances look at me with eyes narrowed and say, “you look really well” – the sub-text being, “well there can’t be much wrong with you”.

I don’t know what’s actually stopping me from complaining loud and long. Partly pride, I suppose… and embarrassment. Plus, a fear of losing friends, when I so desperately need them now.

I had a long chat with my GP – a rare thing in these cash-straitened times, I know. We came to the conclusion that perhaps I need some more, “professional” help. Until about three years ago, I was attending Art Therapy sessions. I finally stopped because I felt guilty about taking up the therapist’s time when there are so many more deserving and needy patients than me and he’s the only NHS Art Therapist in the whole of the county (true!).

I thought I’d be ok, I suppose.

So: my blogs. Usually full of humour as I rollick my merry way onwards. But now I’m going to be more truthful about how it’s all affecting me, and I’m going to let you in on my journey towards better management of the mess that is me. I’m assured some of you will be interested – or even empathise. I hope so.

Cos if you’re not, I’ll have to go back to being silent again!

~ Ruth Wood is a regular contributor for SRNA blog. Based in the UK, Ruth was diagnosed with TM in 2006. She now shares her personal stories with SRNA community.