This road I'm on is rocky, and I'm left feeling the broken pieces of my life digging deep into every step I take. On the surface everything appears chaotic and inherently uncontrollable; such is the process of healing. One thing resolves while another is revealed. Symptoms from illness, symptoms from medications to treat illness, and more pieces of yet another puzzle found in lab reports that inspires even more questions than reveals answers. I'm left wondering when this will ever end and how?
I know how I sound most of the time, and I've refrained from giving voice to the truth inside. I guess it's my not-so-distant past still poking it's spiny nails into my back, reminding me I just can't express those feelings because it may make other people uncomfortable... "And we can't have that, now, can we?".. it says. That voice should've been silenced a couple of years ago, and yet here it is, interfering again. That's another talk-show, I'm afraid.
But the truth is--I'm depressed most of the time. Beyond that first week on prednisone, when I felt more like myself than I had in years, things have gotten better in some ways, and worse in many others. So much is blindingly out of control, and I don't have the energy or drive to rage against any of it, nor do I have the power right now to affect change.
There are steps that I MUST take in order to heal.
There are some things I can do, or that I think I can do given my health problems. And when I say "Think" I'm referring to changes I can make that I've no clue as to if they would help or harm. Since there are no definitive answers as to what's what beyond the Autoimmune Hepatitis, I'm left in this ridiculous limbo where I wait.. and wait.. and wait; not the best scenario, I assure you.
I go to bed each night believing that the next day will be better, another opportunity to get it right (whatever that means). I listen to music, remember better times, better health, and being happy, and long for a sleep where I don't remember my dreams the following day. And when I wake up in the morning I'm greeted with the familiar weakness, and the other reminders that I'm not anywhere near healed. It's another day of waiting and wondering and finding the strength to just...keep...going. For every day I make it to the end I consider a good day, because I haven't given up, at least not yet.
It's glaring apparent as to what I need to do. My mind and body are often at odds, all physical and emotional 'discussions' ongoing and without, as of yet, any agreement. Let me tell you--this sucks in more ways than I can describe.
Eat better. Work out. Find ways that inspire peace, tranquility, happiness, joy. BELIEVE that this WILL be resolved at some point. I know this is what I should be doing, how I should be thinking, but my body warns me that believing isn't enough--not nearly enough.
The problems with my relationship also causes a great deal of distress, stress, anxiety, frustration, and it often completely steals all joy out of my life--what little there is. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times--I'm not demonizing T. He does the best he can, I know, but his being tuned out, the knee-jerk reactions and actions of his that are blatantly disrespectful needs addressing. And soon. I can't do that for him, which means I'm left to exist within the confines of those happiness-destroying behaviors. He's a good man, but he needs to educate himself on a few things. Enough said about him, though.
I'm depressed. I am. I'm not completely taken out at the knees, though, so that's a good thing. But it's something I needed to say.
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