*TRIGGER* I want to push the reset button.

********************************************************************************
 **** I am pissed off and angry and in no mood to pull my punches *** as in your going to get raw, unfiltered sewage from the depth of my soul tonight.

New readers, Get some popcorn, and pull up a comfortable chair. I've been told my temper tantrums/pity parties are one hell of a show.

Again....TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF INJURY TALK (screaming?)
********************************************************************************

So my CK lab took a hellofajump.

CK: 337
Normal range: 30 - 223

(This lab shows muscle damage.) I have never been over 251.

There is no physical reason for this to have happened....its the polymyositis flaring, or the prednisone failing....or life cold cocking me one across the chops to teach me a lesson.

"how dare you try to heal your broken body? how dare you look up and think you can remove any of the pain chains I have draped over your shoulders?" Doubles up fist, and reaches back...

POW. When you gunna listen and just stay down? why do you keep getting up? give up the fight.

That CK level has FUCK YOU stamped all over it.

As expected the rheumatologist's office called today about my elevated CK.

He want to either increase my prednisone or add in some chemotherapy medications. Chemotherapy medications with side effects like: "Lymphomas and leukemias have been associated with this drug"

...um, CANCER is one hell of a side effect there Doc.

The other options are some drugs used to prevent organ rejection in transplant recipients.

Of the three poisonous prison shanks offered  to me...increasing my prednisone is the lesser of the evils. 

I say that as I am sitting here struggling to see the screen through blurry vison caused by the prednisone.

options. 

take medications that will kill me

or stop them and allow the polymyositis to cripple me. 

My choices in all this really is....just how fast do you wanna die?....and how painful do you want it to be?

The other day at work I was having trouble talking. I laughed it off, blaming it on being tired and working an extra shift. In reality that symptom has been showing up all month.

Polymyositis can affect swallowing and speech by weakening the throat muscles.

The muscle weakness has now jumped from my extremities to my trunk.

sobering thoughts.

As much as I would like to blow off that CK and do nothing. I have to do something.

and can you guess what I wanna do?

yup.....burn the fucking shit out of my self.

I want to burn to numb my self and to run from the horrific choices facing me. Run from a diagnosis I never wanted in the first place.

Rewind. back to my childhood.

Back, waaaaaay back to the first time Life biffed me off my feet and trampled me into the dirt.

I should have stayed down. Let that bastard win.

why did I get up? 

why DO I get up?

Why when Life punches me do I swing back?

I CAN SEE YOU THROUGH THESE BLURRY EYES!! I KNOW YOUR GOING TO HIT ME AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL I GIVE UP.

I WONT GIVE YOU THE SATIFASCTION OF DRAWING BLOOD THOUGH. I WILL FUCKING CUT MY THROAT AND BLEED OUT JUST TO DENY YOU THE SATISFACTION OF KILLING ME. I WILL DIE BY MY OWN HANDS. LIFE, YOU WILL NEVER NEVER NEVER

NEVER.

HAVE THAT CHANCE. life? are we clear on that? I get to end my life NOT YOU.

I so wanted to buy that pretty package of lighters today at the store. My soul crying out to be put out of its misery with a self inflicted violence spree. 

I know I am going to burn my self.

I've know it since 12-30-17. Been fighting the urges. Been doing okay with handling it. 

but this is pushing me in all the wrong directions. Clouding my resolve to not injure.

Burning would, in effect, push my mental "reset button."

numb me out. Blank out all my worries. Ease me into a calming dissociate high. Escaping to the plane in my mind that is so light all evil sinks out of it.

hurting me is a whole lot healthier then allowing my mind to rage unchecked.

as in a little burn is a lot easier to deal with then me raging to a point I remove a limb or off my selves just to escape the mental pain.

MY BODY IS OUT OF MY CONTROL. MY LIFE IS OUT OF MY CONTRROL. EVERYTING IS OUT IOF MY CONTROL I HATE BEIGN OUT OF CONTROL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

INJURING GIES ME BACK CONTROL. I CALL THE FUCKIGN SHOTS. I CALL THE FUCKING SHOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 I told the doctors office to blow off, I wasn't going to add any of those drugs or increase the prednisone.

you know what I am going to do tomorrow?

get up. (why do I always get up? just once I'ld to stay down when life biffs me off the chair) 

call the rheumatologist back and see just how high he wants to jump my prednisone too.

then go swallow that wretched dose.

then burn until I am so numb I don't care.

I mean, get on with my day.