I have no words. But I need to rant. One last time. Then, I promise I'll quit complaining. I had high hopes for a change. I left my doctor's office last Tuesday in high spirits. Hopeful that the fact that my blood tests came back lower than ever meant there was an actual, tangible, scientific reason for me feeling so lousy all the time. And hopeful that the fact that my doctor acknowledged this, and prescribed a stronger dose of my medicine would help eliminate that feeling.
Today, I am without hope. I am questioning. Is this to be my life now? Is this what I will suffer with day in and day out for years to come? I can't accept it. I am not my body. But, I am a prisoner of it, just the same. I can't be me inside this body. I haven't gone for a long, lift-my-spirits, therapeutic run in weeks. I don't have the energy. I find myself moping. Doing the bare minimum just to get by. I give myself little tasks, trying to motivate myself. Things like getting the laundry done, vacuuming the family room, weeding the front yard, taking my kids to the pool. These things exhaust me. I discover I have a rapidly growing list of things lift half finished or undone.
Today, I should be cleaning, packing, getting ready to leave for our family camp out tomorrow. Two days ago, I was excited. Normally, I love camping. Today, I dread it. How can I go do things I used to love, when all I want to do is crawl into a cave and hibernate for the eternities?
I look inside my mind and discover morbid thoughts. I discover myself having envy for people with terminal diseases. People with cancer. People who can see an end to their misery, and can therefore look forward to death.
My sickness is not that serious. Nor is it terminal. But it is changing my life. So, as I see it, my life as it were, as it was, is over. And I don't know how to begin again, living as a different me, inside a limited body. I mourn my old self. I mourn the mother I used to be...could have been. I mourn the loss of the children I will never bear. I mourn the loss of my fertility. I mourn the wife I was....and pity my family, my husband, for what they put up with everyday. I mourn the friend I used to be. The sister and daughter I was. I am not that person anymore.
I am living in a fog...and all I can see is me, whithering away into nothing.