I can't believe I am sitting down here writing that I am wore out to the bone, again. I spent some time with my girls on Friday in the late afternoon and into the evening and I am paying for it once again. I am so weak all I can do is let the tears roll down my face. I hate this! I was laying in Rich's arms earlier telling him I think it is time. Time for what? He wondered. I asked him if he thought I am weak if I feel like I need to talk to someone just to figure all of this out. Of course he thinks it is a great idea and that I may get some good ideas on how to handle this illness thing. Just to talk to someone who isn't so emotionally involved with me.
Just a few months ago I thought I had finally accepted that this was my life. That was before my meds changed and I was slammed back into this hell. I wondered about talking to a therapist over the past few years but had been doing pretty good so what was the sense of it. Over the past few months I am thinking maybe they have a suggestion for a good book on accepting illness, or other ideas to try to figure all of this out. I am not doing it very well on my own lately. It's weird because when I was doing okay I thought to myself, I can do this for the rest of my life. I was at an even keel and able to do what needed to be done, but now it is different. I really was okay. But then when I got slammed down back to this my mind cannot handle the thoughts of doing this for the rest of my life. I honestly am not depressed. I am a really happy, fun loving person until days like this when the weakness hits. I still try to be my jolly self. I still try to do my arts and crafts or watch tv but when it is is this bad the illness wins. It drags me into a hell that I can't pull myself out of. I give into it and I give it up. There ya go, you win illness. If I give it all to the illness, at least in my mind, I hope that it will magically go away because I told it that it won. No such luck.
So as for today I ponder on the thought of talking to a complete stranger about my deepest darkest fears and hope someone just might have some coping skills for me to use in my daily illness journey. I also believe it will take some pressure off of Rich as he tries to make everything better, knowing all along he can't. That poor man tries so hard and I watch as my illness hurts him so much more than it hurts me. Mostly because he can do nothing to fix it except wrap his arms around me and assure me how much he loves me. Some days that is enough.