Doubting Thomas

Today was hell.  Have you ever seen Dr. Who?  I’m addicted to the show.  I saw myself through a Dr. Who episode today.  My body was burning from the inside, I was being tortured by some unseen force and my life was draining from my body.  Great on TV.  Sucks in real life.

This is a quote from my Facebook page:

“Mercifully, I started my period yesterday. Two co-workers at different times stopped mid sentence…examined my face and said “You look different, relaxed maybe? Is your makeup different” Of course I knew. PMDD was not contorting my face. I try so hard to not let others know…but those around me can actually see a physical change in my features.
The best way to describe day 1: It’s like the moments right after a tornado destroys everything in its path…and then out of nowhere, the wind stops. The rain stops and the sun comes out as if nothing happened. And yet the evidence remains as proof it’s was not just a dream.”

The tornado ended after hours of torture tonight.  Right after I was cruel to the kids and cried uncontrollably and imagined putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger to ease the pain…. it just stopped.

The tornado stopped.  The storm clouds parted and the sun cracked through.

I still have a headache and it will return, but something caused it to stop.  It is like “The Silence”.  You only remember them when you see them.  The moment you look away, they were never there.

I must not forget and have false hope ever again.  I must not ever believe my life will be normal.  The pain of believing is too much.  The pain of hope stripped away is much more painful than giving up all together.

Now I know why people do that.

I wondered why people stopped fighting for their lives.  I’ve been a fighter.

I’ve been abused by every man in my life in one way or another.  Physical, emotional, sexual…in severe ways.  Ways that would put them in jail if I had someone who would have stood up for me.  But I didn’t.

I never gave up though.  I’ve always fought.  I’ve always believed.  I’ve always had faith there was something good yet to come.

Maybe if I had The Doctor and my life was fiction. But my life is very real and PMDD is real and it almost took me out tonight.  I sat in my closet praying for death. Praying for an end as I stared at my shoes.
Sorta pathetic I know, but I needed the walls to be surrounding me a little more.  The bedroom was too vast and lonely.

This last round felt like fire in my blood. The anger, the anguish, the finality…it’s to much for this body.

My brain has absorbed so much pain, it’s no longer able to find happiness. Maybe it’s contaminined and poisoned by the PMDD.

When I start my period, it will be as if I turned away from “The Silence” and I will pursue my dreams again.  I will forget how far down I can sink into the agony of blackness.

I wonder if I will try or if I will foolishly search for hope again.

This time, I stopped believing in God by choice.  It’s not possible to be trapped so deep into the blackness by your own body and there still be a loving God.

We’ll see if God can prove “He” is real.  At this point, I need proof.  I need to see the nails in your hands God.  You gave that to Thomas.  Just call me Thomas now.  Because after tonight…I have so much doubt.

You said, “The joy of the Lord is my strength”.  I’ve sought “You” for 14 years.  Where is my strength and where is the joy and for that matter, where are You?


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