Collection of thoughts

i am on my fourth day of an attack.

let me try to illustrate how this feels. imagine being the most tired you have ever been. maybe it’s like a hangover… i have no perspective on that.

i needed to go pee. bad. i looked at the clock, it was 9:34 this morning. i told myself i would give myself five minutes to get the energy to go to the bathroom. when i woke up from zoning out i looked at the clock and it was 9:57. i had almost wet myself.

when i stand my heart pounds. i can hear it in my ears. sitting here writing this is taking everything i have.

i don’t wish this on anyone. i would like for my loved ones to experience my life for just a day. not even necessarily the vertigo – but the days after the attack. those are almost worse.

the days when your legs feel like they weigh 100 pounds each. you decide shuffling your feet is easier than picking them up to walk. stairs… forget it. sometimes i have to use my hands to crawl up the stairs. not because of the dizziness (although that too, has happened), but because i am so damn tired i just can’t do it.

it’s fatigue. fatigue that never goes away. sleeping 12 hours makes no difference. fresh air makes no difference. sunshine makes no difference. i just have to survive it. live it.

breathe.

process.

all the crippity crap my old psychologist used to tell me.

i am a useless blob of a human. organs, skin, hair… my brain in mush. my hands only work because i need to get this blog done. i need you to read it. i need you to try to imagine it. i need you to try and understand it.

i need it because on days like these living doesn’t make sense. i have nothing but my nose out of the water. it’s total darkness.

from this i will prevail. like the proverbial phoenix, i will rise from the ashes of this attack. i will persevere because i have to.

i don’t have the luxury of giving up. throwing up my hands.

i refuse to let my legacy be taking the easy way out.

death is easy.

it’s living that is hard.

i rarely back down from a challenge.

i found a meme I really liked the other day:

fate whispers to the warrior, “you cannot withstand the storm”

and the warrior whispers back, “i am the storm’

mw

Baby Blues

This blogs has several drafts.

It’s a difficult subject to talk about.

Every time I leave the house I see a pregnant woman.

It’s stings in a way. Not necessarily out of envy, but fear.

Fear about becoming a mother.

Not fear about my capacity to love, but fear about my physical ability to be pregnant and raise a child.

I mean really, there are days when I am unable to care for myself properly.

You can’t just “be sick” as a parent. I hardly remember my mom being sick as a kid. I am sure it happened but I don’t remember it. She and I were probably sick at the same time and she still cared for me. Was still tender. Able. Strong. She never crumbled onto the floor in a mess of snot, clutching… grasping to anything she could find to stop the world from spinning.

Can I really be a mother?

First step is getting off my medications. Not only my benzo, but my diuretic. The purpose of the diuretic is given because it assists in getting rid of excess fluid in the body. It keeps some of my symptoms at bay.

Second step is getting pregnancy. Sounds fun right? Terrifying for me. Morning sickness… potential blood pressure issues when my diuretic has suppressed my blood pressure for so long. Not being able to take my benzo.

Third step is being a mother. My disease won’t go away because I have a child to care for. What if I can’t physically do it?

There are days when I am so fatigued I can’t even speak accurately. There are days when the anxiety and depression are so heavy I can’t see through the darkness.

When I have a child I can’t have excuses. I can’t not wake up in the middle of the night. I can’t forget to feed, bathe, nurture them.

I can’t be zonked out on narcotics.

Again, it’s not about capacity, it’s about physical ability.

I am going to push publish on this blog. I’ve been working on it for months. Because it’s hard. It’s painful. It’s part of my reality. It’s a jagged reminder of how my life is different. How I can’t just make a knee jerk decision. Everything must be plotted out. Everything needs to be planned.

MW