So it's March. The year is 17% over.
I am not any further along on the things I promised myself. I don't have a plan, or a direction or a new job. I haven't thought about the move and I don't have a clue what life will be like for us when we make all these big changes. (I've started to worry that I am avoiding it all, and that deep down I am terrified that US won't be us anymore when everything else is different. Which is silly I know, but I've had a lot of time to wind myself up in circles.)
I suppose the real issue is my stupid gut. After 4 months without hormones or menses, they have come back with a vengeance. And a growth lump on my ovary which is hemorrhaged, filling with blood and causing trouble.
While I am totally fine and definitely not dying of cancer, every day is harder than it should be. The side effects of my overly freaked out body are exhausting.
I keep telling myself it's nothing. Hopefully it'll solve itself if I can outlast the symptoms. That actually, on any given day, things are fine, I am okay and life is going to keep trucking on.
Partly that's true. Well, actually that's completely true - but it's sometimes hard to believe. Today I was back at another doctors. I was looking at the running list of symptoms I keep in my bag as if it was a grocery list:
abdominal pain? check
nausea? check
tender and swollen pelvis? check
the list goes on for a page.
And getting to the end my heart skipped a beat. Not because any one of those things is awful. not because they even all happen all the time. but added up, it is that bad. it sucks. its exhausting. and it's hard. and it's taken me this long to admit it, so all the pretending and compensating and guilt tripping myself into keeping on and keeping up is actually part of the problem more likely than not.
And I could kick myself.
The hardest part is that somewhere along the way I've lost is the drive to keep trying.
in the break and rest and time out that is required for healing and thinking and doctors, i've accidentally taken a breather from my life. and once you stop it is inevitable that the free time that comes with being laid up starts to make you look around. and it's depressing that all i see is carnage.
a broken body. an exhausted mind. no will. no ambition. no creativity. no passion. no friendships, they've all fallen by the wayside since i stopped writing, calling, going out or doing anything but watching bad tv and moaning alone and small. an absolute lack of anything resembling my personality. a relationship that takes all our energy and freetime - i think because the mood swings, fatigue and deteriorating link to the real world are making it increasingly difficult for me to listen, help, support and care about anything. so what energy we do have is making up for it - little kindnesses and long talks, nice things, but not, I'd wager, the meaningful depth, incredible intimacy and valuable seperateness that make (made?) us so good. and that is not anyone's fault but it's sad.
And while part of me is just exhausted, angry and impatient to reclaim myself, I have no interest in getting back on this carousel. I can't pretend I want things to go back to how they were (airy fairy it may be, i feel like this serendipitous fresh start and new look is one of the great goods that will come from this. i needed it). but it's going to be hard and it's scary. and right now i am not okay enough to handle that, so it's just sitting there. looming. waiting for me.
