Giving In

I’ve considered deleting this blog. Thought about what a drag it is to write about pain and fatigue.

Wrestled with Jase over the idea of letting it go. He’s urging me to keep going, I want to give up.

Fact is, our lives have been over taken by my pain and fatigue. When I go to work, I can’t give full vent to the intensity of what I’m feeling. I stuff it down, dig deep, and find a way to do my job until I can fall apart in my car and then back at home.

While at work, there are multiple times my body screams at me to throw in the towel, to give up and go home. There’s a tenacity somewhere with in that keeps fighting, keeps reminding me there are bills to pay. It’s getting harder and harder to “fake it till I make it”. Fuck that.

I can’t find the words to describe what my body is experiencing. Dragging yourself through quicksand with cinderblocks tied to every limb.

Washing my hair zaps my arms with the feeling of burning lactic acid in a matter of seconds, and I have to find a way to clean a home from 4 to 7 hours or work retail for the day?

Survival.

I prefer a bed in a house over an air mattress in a tent. That’s the only thing that keeps me going. I don’t desire homelessness.

I’m terrified that one day my body will protest to the point of just not working anymore.

I’m jealous as hell of those who can navigate illness with no thought toward their finances. Yes.

I. AM. JEALOUS.

I fantasize about not having the added stress of keeping a roof over my head or a car to drive to work to keep the roof over my head.

I question why I’m not in a better position this late in the game.

Well, fact is, I’m not. This is my reality.

All the “why’s” and “what if’s” will not change what is in my life right now.

The co~worker who is so steeped in her high vibrational frequency that when I share a crumb of my depth her response is “I’m so happy for you! That’s wonderful!” I want to rip her head off and shit down her neck for being such a superficial piece of garbage. OOOO but it’s not socially acceptable to feel that way.

If you can’t handle a watered down version of my truth, don’t fucking ask.

In my recent pod cast listening I’ve witnessed Lady Gaga and Gabby Bernstein share their struggles with chronic pain and mental health. I appreciate and love them for speaking out. For having the balls to admit to their followers they struggle. To overcome the stereotypes. They are badass.

I have yet to hear someone speak about illness and financial lack. I’m sure if I do enough digging, I’ll find what I’m looking for.

I don’t know where to put the feelings and challenges I’m facing. They are new and unexpected.

I’m not versed in not wanting to be outside or go on a new adventure. I don’t know what to do with physical lethargy when my mind is saying it wants to go have fun.


21 thoughts on “Giving In

  1. Don’t give up, dtick with the blog if only so that you have something to look back on in the years to come.
    Do you have a diagnosis yet? I was in your position in 2013. Struggling to keep working and to keep a roof over my head. I gave in and sold my house. I bought a static caravan to live in. The relief was immense. Illness may reduce your circumstances but I eventually learnt that I can live on very little and still survive. I could tell you so much about this life of chronic illness but I’m tired, I’m in bed and I hate typing on my phone. Next time maybe I’ll be on my laptop. Hang in there.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for your response, typing on the phone sucks. My boyfriend and I are minimalists who rent fully furnished properties, we were both previously married with kids. We love living on little and didn’t see illness coming. We are in the process of getting a diagnosis. There is such a mixed bag of emotions that come along with feeling like your physical freedom is being pulled out from under you. Your story certainly gives me hope!

      Liked by 1 person

      • I’m glad to connect with you and I’m glad I have given you hope. Trying to get a diagnosis can be difficult, my daughter has MS and it took her nearly 20 years to get a proper diagnosis. I got a diagnosis fairly quickly once I asked for one but for my whole life I did wonder if everyone else felt as awful as I did. Now I know that obviously they didn’t! It was only in 2013 though that I really got ‘struck down’.
        I then got stuck in a period of asking how, why, what caused it, etc. Eventually I learned to just get on with life as best I could and adjust, although I’m not saying it was easy. I did find great improvement for a while when I ate a super healthy diet with a regime of juicing added in but I wasn’t able to sustain that from a cost point of view. I suppose now I have what could be called a trade off between a couple of days a week semi-normal living and resting on the other 5 days.
        You will find your way eventually.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I had myself convinced everyone feels like crap and they all kept pushing themselves like I was doing. My boyfriend assured me not everyone feels like I do. It’s weird to give in to the pain and fatigue. It’s so ingrained in us to push, push, push. At any rate I’m glad you and your daughter have received answers and I hope you are both adjusting. I do believe in strong nutrition and like you struggle with how damn expensive it can be. I’ve recently come across a lady by the name of Karen Hurd and am studying her protocol for things. She cured her 18 month old daughter from liver failure with nutrition. So far it looks like beans are a huge player in her studies, lol I can afford beans! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I was thinking recently about giving up the blog. I’ve had a break and now I just can’t get back into it. But if you are struggling with your health and can still find the strength to continue then my sorry ass has no excuse. Keep treading dudette… you’re so incredibly strong and brave.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. This post makes me sad. It makes me think of my latest NROP post, other people I knew that worked until they dropped dead, and those that do nothing all day. It makes me sad and angry. It’s so unfair. I wish I could make the world “right.”

    As far as your blog is concerned:
    – Do not worry about the tone of your posts. They’re raw, honest, and insightful.
    – As for quitting blogging for whatever other reason – Give yourself time to think about this. Do not make this decision in haste. I’d urge you to stay, but ultimately, it is up to you.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I love your posts Mare – I’m sorry have been absent for awhile as have been chilling and living without a screen – something that is hugely restorative for me. Don’t delete the blog ever – take it from someone who has blown up several things when the mood strikes me – you would regret it. Some day you’re going to be well again – this time is a time of growth – perhaps you’ve been buried so you can sprout – who knows – just write – forget about the why????? Don’t overthink it – just write x

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you Kate 🙂 Ahhh yes, I am a blower upper of things as well, a hard lesson to learn. I’m glad you took a break from the all mighty screen, it is good for the soul. I am moving past the anger of illness and crawling toward gratitude. There is a silver lining and I’m beginning to see it’s hem.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I hope so – I’ve read a few books by people that have gone through serious illness then come out the other side – they have such a depth and compassion to them – you’re like that plus funny and real. Keep blogging Mare.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Don’t give up Mare. Your strength is truly an inspiration. I’m one of the lucky ones who can’t even begin to imagine what you and your family are going through. I only know that the truth and goodness that radiates from you is like a refreshing spring on a hot summer’s day. Your writing is creative, spirited, moving. You know, I think there’s a book in here somewhere along the way; but until then, while on your road to recovery, and in spite of everything, you can purge your tribulations on these pages, with the view to ultimately overcoming some of life’s worst missiles. Because one of these days I know that I’ll aboard your thought train to happier climes.

    Keep going. You’re brilliant

    Liked by 1 person

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