May 12, 2009

It seems like I’m not keeping up as much with the updates. Seems like I’ve been a lot more tired/grumpy lately. And if you know me at all, I tend to hermit at times like this. Unfork, these times are stretching far beyond any temporary mood inconvenience I’ve ever had to endure in the past. So hiding out in my cave to weather the storm can only work for a little while before it propogates its own destructive patterns.

I’ve thought about this a bit, and if I could have picked my debilitating injury of scale, I’d have preferred to break my femur. Time off from society and activities would be measured in weeks. I think I may have posted about this already, but I’m thinking about it again. It blows my mind that my even just my acute symptoms have already brought me to the one year mark. Cycles of illness: anger, frustration.. the psychology of stages in illness… that has probably been recently dispelled.. heh.. I guess my experience would fit into some of those categories somehow. I don’t think I’ve accomplished the acceptance phase gracefully. I don’t think I intend to, if I can help it. (I was hoping to fool the illness sparks by knitting and crocheting.)

What am I trying to say here? Is this thing being graded? Maybe I should focus less on making it readable and just rant and rant and rant and rant without making any conclusions. *plots*

sigh. So what I’m trying to say is first and foremost, “ARGHHHHHH!!!!!” and secondly, I now have a new thing to fear, and that is the idea that I am losing who I am because I am now defined by how much of anything I can tolerate (which isn’t much), and by all the things I’d rather do that I can’t. How a person spends their time defines them. I defy anyone to persuade me otherwise.  So therefore I’m hospital girl (no cape, just a stupid pink hair net and choke block that isn’t working very well anymore making rad even less tolerable - whole other subject to whine about sometime), and mumblegrumbletired girl. Feels good to be alive. In a not so much kind of way. Everything is a chore and I don’t even do anything. I have no deadlines except to make it to my rad appointment. I’m usually on time. Barely, out of breath and it gave me a huge headache to get there, and afterward I’m tired out for the day. Fabulous weather out, eh? I do so love late springtime. I feel like everything good is pretend. Overeating doesn’t even help. I’m almost out of ideas.

Recent events have left me overexhausted. For what might have been a casual weekend’s day worth of activity/interaction, I feel like I have a hangover but worse because I smell rotting flesh and I can’t shake anything off. Would someone please chop off my head? But if I simply avoided the moderate activity etc, I would have been worse-depressed due to the monotony of hiding out alone at home. To save my mood I sacrifice my physical well being. To boost my physical well being I sacrifice my emotional well being. This has got to end soon or I shall be convinced that the only way out will be to max my credit on the purchase of noodles to fill up my apartment like a Snoezelen pool so that I can swim my way around in uncooked macaroni just so I don’t go crazy.

heh see this is good irony. Not the bad kind I usually get.

I don’t have anything more to say, except to mention a couple highlights amidst my recent physical deterioration: I’m a little more independent in the DIY auto care department thanks to my brother who makes a great teacher, and I’ve reconnected with one of my longest lost good friends. Both of these things give me happies. Now I need to go sleep for a day or three.