You know you’ve hit rock bottom when the only cheer your friends can manage to offer is that “it really is darkest before dawn and the only way for things to go from here is up“.
From personal experiences, I know that things always work out, no matter how long it’ll take, things always work out, no matter what.
But at the moment, I really feel like I’ve hit the pit and there’s no where else to go.
I’ve been avoiding writing, because I’m afraid I would sound too miserable and scare everyone off.
A week ago, I still had most of my wits with me.
I knew that I will be jobless in about 2 weeks.
After a dispute with my landlord, I also knew that I will be homeless in about 3 weeks.
I was miserable, because I thought I couldn’t cope with both at the same time.
I was under pressure to do all I can do before I leave my job. I was under pressure to find a place to live. And at the same time, for reasons too long to explain now, I had to figure out what I wanted to do with life in general.
Nasty says it’s all the stress that’s landed me on the operating table.
While washing our bikes on Saturday afternoon, I started getting stomach pains. They got worst and soon I was writhing around in bed. I was hoping that they’ll go away, like any other stomach ache. But by 10pm, we gave in and went to the A & E.
I was eventually admitted with suspected appendicitis and was painfully put on a drip. At about 4 am, someone decided come to the side of my bed and tell me at the top of his voice that my blood tests have come back showing a HIGH INFECTION RATE and that they’ll be OPERATING IN THE MORNING!
I went into hospital with a stomach ache. I thought I’ll leave all well and happy.
But now not only do I feel worst, I also have three cuts in my stomach, I couldn’t walk properly, which affects my back; I couldn’t eat properly, coz my belly is so bloated; and every time I sneeze or cough, it’s so painful I’m terrified that my stitches will burst.
After 4 days, I’ve now been discharged. I feel someone’s punched me repeatedly in my stomach and rearranged my insides. Which might be just as well since the surgeon said I had pus all over the place and they had to wash it all out.
At the moment, I hate life.
Everything is wrong.
No job. No house. Can’t even walk, eat or shit without pain. I cried.
It’s my birthday today and I was supposed to be in Berlin. Money wasted.
I cried for sheer bad luck. A friend wished me “Happy the Worst Birthday of Your Life” and told me that all my other birthdays could only be better. I cried because nothing, NOTHING seems right.
See? This is miserable isn’t it? I told you I shouldn’t write.