Monday, December 2, 2013

It's not easy to be me.

Remember that Five for Fighting song, "Superman"?  Sometimes I feel like that is the soundtrack to my life.  At least the chorus "It's not easy ... to be ... me"  because it's not.  Granted, who ever says it's easy to be them, right?  Even rich celebrities say their lives suck. 

Anyway, it's not easy to fight this battle I'm in.  It's not easy to feel like you're walking miles behind the rest of the world in the great rat race of life.  Some people are running, and I can't even pick up the pace to attempt a jog!

Injection days are the worst.  I would give my right arm to be able to just crawl into my sweats and curl up on the bed all day on injection days.  I don't want to have to go out into the world and do anything.  Alas, that's not the case.  I usually have to work or ... I have to do something.  I wish things were different.  You have no idea.

I am desperately trying to get on the healthy living horse again.  Being such a slug is making it a difficult transition but not for lack of trying.  It makes me mad about being sick.  It makes me mad at the world.  It makes me mad at people around me.  It makes me sensitive to comments.  It just makes me a generally unhappy person.

I shouldn't let it, but it does.  I am exhausted from constantly fighting this monster.  I am exhausted from constantly trying to live my normal life. 

I am reminded often that I am lucky to be above ground.  I am reminded that there are people who are worse off than I am.  It doesn't make the anger magically disappear however ... but it is a start. 

It's just not easy. 

And when things feel like they are starting to get worse ... like the scab reappearing in my nose, the new wheeze I have when I breathe out, the hip pains, the cough that is like the worse tenant in the world. ... those things make me even more overwhelmed because that's where the fear comes in.

there's always a fear.

Am I going to get worse?  Am I going to die?

The nightmares have returned.  Nightmares that I am actually dying and I freak out, trying to anchor myself and hold onto living.  I scare my husband because I cry out, screaming to hold onto me so that I don't slip away.  I've never had such horrific nightmares.  It's not like a monster is coming after me, no ... it's that my life is ending.  It's that everything is soon going to go dark. 

Even thinking about them is freaking me out. 

I don't want to die.  I admit it.  I'm scared.  I'm not in danger of that right now, but no one knows what's up ahead and for me?  It feels like that is lingering around the corner at any given time.

I can't help it. 

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