finding footing

Yesterday was a test because I was with people the whole time. Today is a test because I am not.

and nature sing

It's probably a good omen that I've had joy to the world running through my head on a loop for the past six hours. 

emptying out

I've been debating what to put into words. Sometimes I've wanted to write that I feel so much better and much stronger! And sometimes I've wanted to write that I feel like I'm the worst I've ever been, that I'm at my wit's end, that there's either something very, very wrong with my body or else my mind. I'm beginning to think that the bulk of my persistent symptoms could be caused by depression. Because why else? I don't know. I wish I did. I have been in the very darkest corners of my head and heart the past two months and I'm pretty sure I'm not out of the woods yet. I am uncomfortably vulnerable to both my continuing physical weaknesses and my psychological ones. I think I'm going to need some serious help and some serious time to sort through all that has been happening to and within me. I keep finding myself sobbing on the floor, just wanting to get away from myself. And you can't, you never can. The good news is that S is ALWAYS there for me, always patient and gentle and persistent even when I'm snapping wildly. And the good news is that today's the last day of work til the new year, and I do hope that the easing pressure of full days at work will help to ease some of the pressure on the rest of me. And more good news: I am feeling stronger physically. That's not even false optimism. And. I know that if I do indeed need serious intervention and serious time to heal and recover, I can have that. I have two families and an incredible husband who will help me get the help I need and won't leave me floundering. I may need a whole winter to regain my footing. I've got to be willing to give that up.

slugging

I think I'm just going to have to embrace the slug. Apparently my body still needs time to rest, and fighting the resting is not helpful. I HAVE been resting and staying low-key, but I've been resenting myself the whole while, feeling guilty for being selfish and letting things slide around the apartment, with friends, and at work, and I've been feeling pitifully sorry for myself and especially for S, who is missing a healthy wife. I think I just need to stop doing the resentful rest thing and just switch over to rest rest. I CLEARLY need more sleep, less tension, less self-blame, FEWER TEARS. So I should probably just embrace the slug. Sorry, rest of the world. If you're going to be loud and big and jumping around, I'm going to stay behind for the time being. I'm going to have a mellow Christmas. I'm going to try to love the mellow.

what's the expiration date on my sympathy card?

I'm typing this from my bed, because it's been another one of those days. I really, really wish I had something obviously wrong with me that I could point to and say, 'see, doctor, I'm bleeding from my eyeballs, fix it!' It is incredibly frustrating to have my symptoms be not-pain. My symptoms are a sour stomach and weakness and fatigue and anxiety and the feeling like I've been drugged, like I'm drunk, like my skin is crawling and my head is a hot air balloon. Because this has gone on for so long, I'm starting to worry that people aren't going to believe me when I say I'm just not well yet, because damnit, I don't always believe me, either. Some of the time I convince myself that perhaps I'm just insane. Or on my way. Thank god for S, who continually tells me I'm not crazy. Thank god for a soft bed and my ability to hope that I'll feel stronger in the morning. And kleenex. Dear lord, kleenex. I feel as if I have the best-flushed tear ducts in the whole county.

progress

Jinxing whatever, whatever--I have to say that this weekend I spent two nights in a row out hanging out with friends and I WAS FINE. A little slower and sleepier than normal, but I could do it. It has been weeks and weeks since this was so easy. I'm feeling very glad.

reversion

I think I did jinx myself. I'm struggling again. All I want is to (not be at work and) curl up on the floor for a few hours/all day. Screw my immune system. Seriously.

normalcy

I don't want to jinx what is still an achingly gradual improvement, so I haven't really wanted to talk about it. But these are the facts: I'm feeling more human. But I am still craving shelter and fearing being left alone much more strongly than ever before. Still tiring quickly, still unable to eat things like supreme pizza without a day of payback.

I'm very jealous of the me of just a few months ago who never needed to think or worry about body's stability. These days I have to gauge myself every time I leave the apartment. Will I be able to stay upright through a trip to the grocery store? Can I handle a 90 minute community band rehearsal without becoming overwhelmed? I'm still very weak, and the virus, somehow, hijacked my senses in a way that has left me vulnerable to loud noises, bright lights, big crowds. My immunity to overstimulation has been slowly returning, I think. I DID survive a 90 minute community band rehearsal yesterday, even though it was so loud. And I'm on day two of a full day of work this week and though I don't feel great, I feel... ok. I'll last til 4:00. It helps when I'm distracted.

I wish I didn't know that my body was capable of this type and length of collapse. I'm afraid that now I know, I'll always be on the lookout for the next. It kind of sucks. But I DO feel better, I do. Have kicked, I hope for good, the low lingering fever and phlegm and the pervading feeling of malaise that colored a good month and a half of every waking moment. I'm still left with a weird stomach/digestive tract and muscle-deep fatigue. I miss normal poop. But I guess I'll just take things one step at a time.

Beyond my body, life has been sweet and I have been feeling Christmassy and warm. S has been reading Watership Down aloud to me in the evenings when he's home. We sit on the couch, and my mind DOES NOT WANDER. I am able to sit and listen to him and be perfectly in the moment. One evening we cut open a pomegranate and I fed him bites of the rich red seeds in between the chapters. We got and decorated a Christmas tree yesterday. I'm not looking forward to coming home to an empty apartment this evening, but knowing the tree will be there helps. I am determined to regain my ability to be alone and to take care of myself, and I am convinced that Christmas music and a pine scented candle will help.

I have been such a drama queen since I've been sick, full of tears and neediness and gasping out about DYING and NEVER GETTING BETTER and DEEP, DEEP SADNESS. But I'm happy to report that I haven't had a crying jag in three days. So, bring on the next few weeks. Bring on this one-day-at-a-time hike back to normalcy. (Normalcy! WTF!)  

craft time

Today is about curative rice pudding and puppet making. And clean results on this week's tests--blood is fine, poop is fine, heart rhythm is just a little faster than normal but fine. If a part of this sickness (and I believe this is the case) has been psychosomatic, NOW is the time for my mind to get the message that I'm going to be just fine, so that my body can finally follow suit. It will feel so good to be hungry again.

weepy mess part five trillion

My parents keep saying that there is reason in my sickness. Reason is definitely something to cling to, five and a half weeks in. Dad said maybe it's so I learn to fully rely on and trust S. Boom, whack, you're vulnerable. I guess this is what marriage is made of. Or maybe the reason of this is to give me a chance to revel in all the amazingly generous and warm and loving people around me. I mean. I have been so doted on. Today there was ginger ale (my favorite coworker keeps me supplied), and a get well card that said 'pretty please!' and then when I got home from the doctor's office just now, a lady from my parents' church, who has already given me so much, like a toaster, and beautiful ferns to decorate the sanctuary for our wedding, drove twenty miles into town to bring me chicken noodle soup and crackers and freshly baked bread and a poinsettia plant. My first poinsettia plant. I have not gone more than twelve hours, give or take, without breaking down into tears for quite some time now. And now I'm crying again, because of the poinsettia and the food, and because this is so much for one day! And yet it's just a piece of the amazing care and soft hands that have been all around me throughout this damn sickness. It's not over yet--I'm still not whole. I guess maybe that means that there's another reason in this somewhere. Like, I don't know, a 'come to Jesus' moment on my horizon or something. Or maybe I was always meant to own the pink plastic puke pan my mom gave to me the other day. Now that it's in my possession, perhaps my tribulations will soon be over. Waah. At this point I think I may be asking for tissues for Christmas, and that's it.