The Twilight Hour

Snot running down your face and eyes teeming with tears, is never a good look on anyone. Making that shit look classy only happens in movies. The only positive outcome about it being three in the morning, is that there’s no-one around to see how broken I am right now.
It isn’t even the pain that’s keeping me up…well, not this time. The fault lies solely with two bloody annoying conditions, hypersalivation, the production of too much saliva and dysphagia, which is difficulty in swallowing.
Both conditions usually occur separate to one another, but for the last couple of days, they have been happening simultaneously.
First my mouth will become dry with a feeling that my throat is closing up. This brings on a mild panic attack (I say mild because I know it really isn’t) and each swallow feels as though it’s stuck mid gulp, which brings on yet another panic attack because it then seems as though I can’t breathe. Then the hypersalivation comes into play and I feel as though I’m drowning in my own saliva. Of course, this doesn’t go down too well, quite literally, as I’m having difficulty swallowing in the first place.

And I’m tired. So bloody tired.
Every time I look at the clock and see the minutes passing by, I cry.
It’s now 4 am and I have to be up at 6 am to make the womb-fruit’s breakfast and iron his school uniform, because despite my Aspie child also being my carer, I will not let my incapabilities be responsible for him receiving third degree burns, or burning down the house.
The worst part, is that I’m utterly alone.
Gone are the days of being able to pick up the phone in the early hours of the morning and weep about what is ailing me, because like those days, my friends are long gone.
It’s always in those twilight hours that I realise just how much I’ve lost. That at the end of it all, I only have myself to rely on, and that no-one is going to come to my rescue.
There is no-one there to hold my hand or offer up a gentle hug. There is no-one who will be there to tell me that everything is going to be alright. There is no-one to just sit and hold me when I cry and there is no-one to pick me up and piece me together when I fall and break.

It’s at times likes these that I feel like a ghost walking through life. A dead among the undead. No-one sees me, no-one hears me, yet I am here and I exist…just.
I try so hard to take life as it comes. To make the best of what I have and to be grateful for the small things. But sometimes, just sometimes, it all becomes too much and I hate that I exist. Fortunately, those moments are fleeting. A whisper of a bad thought.
4:24 am. Time to attempt sleep once again.

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9 thoughts on “The Twilight Hour

  1. I actually read this last night but I was in my car and didn’t trust my phone to to type in an answer. – The only thought that came to me other than sheer anguish for you was just wanting you to know that even tho I can’t be there physically, I am here. I’m here and I’m reading and I’m sympathizing and empathizing with you and for you and most importantly, I pray for you Lily. ❤

    Liked by 3 people

    • Thank you Karen and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I wasn’t really thinking when I posted this and honestly didn’t expect anyone to read it. I guess I was just crying out. You, Madilyn and Claudette have been absolute godsends in not only reading my deluge of woe and melodramatics, but in leaving the most heartfelt and encouraging comments. I thank you all. You guys truly are gems. xx

      Liked by 2 people

  2. 😦 Lily, my heart is crying for you. I wish I could be there to give you a hug, to make you a cup of tea. Having these two conditions happen together, when even one alone is awful, is such a nightmare. I can readily understand having a mild panic attack. Before I got meds from the doctor for my nasty case of bronchitis, I had mild panic attacks when I’d cough so severely that my airways would close, and I’d have to literally pound on the floor or table to get my breath back. I know with fibro you can’t just get meds to more easily take care of these things and it can happen at any time. I am so sorry! And I am especially sorry that you are utterly alone, and I wish I didn’t live so far away. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    • Madilyn, It’s horrible that you’ve experienced this as well. That feeling of your airways closing is truly horrifying, as you well know.You also know that when you’re in mid panic, the mind doesn’t think rationally and so causes crazy thoughts to spin around your head.
      The loneliness is the worst part. Having someone here while I’m going through it all would make so much difference in stopping the panic. It would be wonderful if we were in the same country because I know that you would put my mind at ease. xx

      Liked by 2 people

  3. Ah, Miss Lily, my bloggy friend from the other side of the world – how far away your are, and how I wish you weren’t. Being lonely IS one of the hardest things to deal with when you are healthy, but when you are sick it is the absolute pits.
    I know that feeling of having to be your own “pick-up-the-pieces” person, and I remember that desperate need for someone else to do it for me just for a little while, but knowing there was no-one. My heart is crying for you – I hope that you might have got some sleep, and admire you hugh-mongus-lee for doing the Mum things for you son whilst feeling like the underside of a mouldy piece of flattened roadkill. (Sooooo flattering, aren’t I?) Trust me when I say, that even all that snot flowing down your face cannot hide the beauty and greatness of your soul.
    Big, big wishes for a better day today.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Aww, you almost made me cry with such a beautiful comment…happy tears this time. Thank you. I really do appreciate your kind words, even the roadkill sentence which made me laugh. 🙂
      There’s such a difference between being alone and being lonely. Sometimes I prefer my own company and so like being alone. But loneliness can be so defeating and makes me recall every single person that I’ve been there for over the years. How they thought nothing of pouring out their own woes at 3 am, or were regardless of me having a newborn to take care of. I think it’s that that really caused me to break the other night, because where are those people now? But you’re right, being lonely is hard whichever way you look at it. And wanting someone else to pick up the pieces is, as you wrote, something that I desperately need just for a little while. Not permanently, just until I get my breath back.
      Trying to maintain some semblance of being a mum, so there are some things that I will battle to do whilst I still can, even if it does mean feeling like the underside of a mouldy piece of flattened roadkill. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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