…the twilight of my life, pt. 2…

It’s been a month since I was able to post. My health has taken a serious downturn. I am now facing packing and cleaning my apartment, moving 1500 miles to my island home and trying to find the money to pay for it. My landlady is harassing me on a daily basis. My anxiety levels have never been higher…

The trip was originally booked to go back for my son’s wedding, but the latest news from the (questionable) ‘medical professionals’ is not good. After 12 years of denying me the tests that would monitor my Frontotemporal lobar degeneration they have now (without the requisite PET scan or MRI) suggested that I may be in the advanced stages. Having waited 21 months they now inform me I would have to wait a minimum of 11 more months for test…then with no compassion whatsoever, the neurologist coldly informed me “but you may very well be severely disabled by that time”.

I have no support system here in my adopted home. I have been ostracized by my former friends due to my ex’s efforts (she has Borderline Personality Disorder and won’t go for treatment, the government and it’s supporting bureaucracy are unresponsive to requests for support, I have been denied social assistance and have little hope of a disability pension. My landlady is NPD and harassing me on a daily basis. So, I return to the poorest region of our nation to live out the remainder of my miserable existence in poverty and regret.

I hope I get to post again…

…why?…

What is a life? Is it a thing that exists outside of us or is it a part of us, just waiting to be tapped?

My life has been a series of a few perfect moments, joined together by pain, indecision, fatigue and disappointment. Perhaps most lives are like that…

Now, I am simply tired. No one calls, no one needs me. There is no joy in this miserable existence. Again, I look forward to the oblivion of death.

…don’t know what to say….

Tonight I can barely type…I’m having a panic attack that’s so bad, I can hardly find the words to describe it. My hands shake, my whole body tenses…I tremble like a leaf.

It’s difficult to describe these feelings to those that haven’t experienced them firsthand. At times, I wish I could record my actions, just to illustrate how debilitating this disorder can be.

At best, it carries all of the symptoms of depression and anxiety. It also mimics PTSD, although it has a very different root (the link above will explain). The World Health Organization defines it here.

Unfortunately, for those of us who suffer from this disorder in North America, our psychiatrists won’t recognize this disorder. Therefore, it is almost impossible to find treatment.

You can see just how frighteningly debilitating this is at bit.ly/2uY9bXC.

…the twilight of my life…

I don’t need to recount everything, suffice it to say that living with mental illness with no hope of medical care is taking it’s toll. With no family or friends, a disorder that makes me push people away, not even a loving little dog to support me, I am getting worse.

I can’t sleep. I nod off for one or two hours during the night, only to wake to panic attacks. I can’t eat. If I can force myself to prepare something, I don’t want to eat it when its cooked…nothing has any taste.

I was a musician. Now I hate music. I am physically unable to play for long periods. When I do perform I have anxiety attacks before the gig, physical pain and depression for days afterwards and an increased feeling of worthlessness when my ‘fans’ do nothing but complain about the time, place and material for the gig.

I hate people, and I hate myself worst of all. If I make to my son’s wedding in the spring it will be a miracle.

Yes, this is definitely the twilight of my life, and not a good time, but my life has been unmitigated pain and suffering anyway. Oblivion calls…

This week, the final straw…

Having explained to two psychiatrists, in detail, about the trauma I’ve suffered, about ideating suicide, about spending multiple days in tears, I have been cast off like so much garbage.

The horrors that I go through every day, paralyzingly fear, flashbacks, seizures, the absolute belief that I am worth nothing were all ignored. The ‘psychiatric resident’ diagnosed me as ‘dysthimic’. The private psych tells me “don’t be so gloomy”. They’ve won. I can’t fight anymore.

Our plight in Canada will not be solved from within. When it comes to the mentally ill in Canada, we might as well be governed by Stalin. Neither the Federal government nor the government of Nova Scotia can defend their mental health fail where the mentally ill are concerned.

When your family ignores you, your friends all avoid you, the doctors all fail you, you can’t work, you can’t even leave your house, you’re not ‘dysthimic’, being told “you’re too gloomy” just makes you worse. Thanks to the Nova Scotia Health Authority, I have lost what little hope I had left. Like many others here, the only reason we’re alive is because of our loved ones, even when they don’t care about you, and that is simply a crime…