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?
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.