I'm scared. Scared of how my body is restricting me - of how little I can do before there is fatigue and pain. Scared of how easy it is to withdraw and further isolate myself. Scared that I'm not going to get better and of the slow deterioration (feel my heart racing after something like hanging out the laundry). Scared of how I want to be able to go out and socialise, but also how much I know it would not be worth it (drive across town and manage maybe 20 minutes and then crash because the noise is too much, there are too many people? Yeah, not really worth it, and such a downer for everyone involved).
Scared that I can't see the good in me which others do. Scared of the depression which is pulling me down. Scared that words are coming out wrong. Scared that a lot of the time, talking or writing is too hard. Scared that this will become too much. Scared that I'm too needy.
Frustrated that I can't do what I used to, either physically or mentally, not by a very long stretch. Frustrated that I'm constantly cycling through stages of grief. Frustrated that my world has shrunk so much. Frustrated that I feel I'm letting friends and family down.
Tired of being tired. Tired of medical articles which maybe have new clues on what's happening in these illnesses, but no treatment. Tired of having to plan and pace everything. Tired of inexplicable aches and pains, and the feeling of having deep bruises all over. Tired of the near constant headaches. Tired of suddenly having foods become inimical to my digestive system. Tired of rarely being able to hold a conversation, a sentence, a thought, of having to struggle to be able to focus.
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I post and check this blog very erratically (if you hadn't already guessed). Thank you for reading!