Sorry I’ve been so quiet.
I’ve been sick.
My most recent ailment is a flare up of my Labrynthitis. Although I’m through the worst of it, (Intense Vertigo,) I’m going on my third week of tinnitus and taking Meclizine, which tires me out more than usual.
Living with a Chronic and/or recurring illness is nowhere near as fun as it sounds. You might think the various aches, pains and discomforts associated with said condition would be the worst of it. And while I’ll be the first to admit that constant vertigo, gut wrenching pain, inability to perform basic bodily functions and other such symptoms I have the pleasure of experiencing on a regular basis are pretty awful, there are other aspects of it that are much more debilitating. The frustration, anger, fear and depression that accompanies or results from each bout of bodily malfunction takes its toll on my psyche and each time, I seem to take it harder and take longer to bounce back.
Because of my unpredictable and untimely ailments, I am often forced to postpone, rearrange or outright cancel plans, no matter how big or small, regardless of how much I may be looking forward to those plans, or the people I may disappoint or the money I have already spent. I feel guilt from the negative impacts my periodic physical limitations have on the people I care about; and I resent the opportunities and experiences missed.
I also resent the extra obstacles I have to overcome in my ongoing battle of the bulge, a battle in which I am losing more ground with each passing day. I am not all that abundant in willpower and energy as it is, and having a condition that prevents me from working out or exercising for long periods of time and saps my energy and disrupts my sleep to the degree that makes getting through the work day a taxing experience, let alone tacking on an hour or two of any kind of exercise, is no picnic.
I am also limited in what I can eat, and have had to cut out a large variety of foods I love but can no longer subject my faulty digestive and intestinal systems to.
I have strained and even lost friendships due to my constant illnesses and inability to always follow through with plans. I have even been accused of lying about being sick, even while laying in a hospital bed amid circling surgeons and nurses.
There’s no doubt I got handed the short end of the genetic stick, but, being the fairly pragmatic person I have grown into, I mostly try to take it in stride and accept my situation for what it is. I do my best to live healthy and stave off what symptoms and problems I can, take my daily meds and attend all my check-ups. I ask questions, research and learn from trial and error what works and what doesn’t.
I try not to fall into self-pity mode or take a “woe is me” attitude. I try to achieve my weight goals and exercise goals and enjoy my healthy days and moments as best I can. I try to be grateful things aren’t worse and remind myself that everything will pass, in time.
Despite all those efforts, sometimes I still fall deep into anger and depression anyway. I resent healthy people and I resent my body for being so messed up. I curse and pout and whine and withdraw and give in to despair. I don’t want to do anything, go anywhere or see anyone. And I don’t want anyone’s sympathy or empathy. I just want to be left alone to suffer and sulk.
And to blog about it.