With only a few weeks left of what has been a horrible year, I wanted to turn it around. To be happy. I've been trying to hard to reach inside myself and at the very least pretend to be normal. You know, fake it until you make it. It seems the more I do it, the harder it is, the more miserable I am. And after a conversation with my husband yesterday, it's more apparent then I thought it was. I struggle with everything from getting up in the morning until I finally crash, thanks to a mix of around 400mg of sleeping medication. I struggle to eat. To get up, to move. To get the simplest of things accomplished.
I thought I was doing well, then I got tossed in the hospital again for a week. While I was there I had an allergic reaction that is rare and takes 12 weeks to go away. This allergic reaction tends to spare the face, hands and feet. Not in my case. It's everywhere. I look like a Christmas tree (festive, right?). And it's not getting better, it's getting worse. On top of that, I had yet another allergic reaction. I got a pedicure for my best friends wedding. I was her matron of honor..... the Wedding was beautiful and a great time that I will never forget. Looks like I will never forget the pedicure either. My toe is infected pretty badly. My doctor has no available appointments and they're telling me I need to be seen now for everything-- the toe, the rashes. I have 6 appointments before the end of the month is out. I don't want another appointment. I don't want to deal with all of this. I've dealt with Diabetes since I was 12, now I have all of this other stuff on top of the diabetes. I feel awful. I don't feel like a person at all. I feel like I don't belong here anymore. I never realized how many tears a person can truly cry. I have never known until now what it feels like to truly not want to be myself anymore. It hurts. To want something so badly that is impossible to have. No one should be on this much medication. It's impossible to pay for it along with all the appointments and specialists that I have to see.
I was talking to one of my moms best friend a few months ago. She's like a mother to me. She's always been there and loved us like we were her own. She asked me a personal question. She said "We weren't sure you were going to make it, but you did. Do you think you didn't want to?" Normally, my answer would have been no. But in all honesty, the answer was yes at the time. Then it changed to maybe. Now, I am not sure again. I know what death does to people. I love everyone in my life and I know with certainty what I mean to them. I know I am loved. That's the hardest part I think. I don't feel like "me" anymore. I don't remember who I was. I don't remember what I used to do. I don't remember what it's like to do something without struggling. I can't imagine what it's like to live with me, to be a friend, relative.
I've turned away from most people. I avoid phone calls. Even from my mom and I used to call her at least 10 times a day. But I realized that if I avoid the people that don't live with me, then maybe the few times that I do talk to them, I can fake happiness. My husband deserves a wife. My children deserve a mother. I am not sure how to be those things anymore. I am not sure how I can be a person with all of these things going wrong. At 30 years old, I have necrotizing pancreatitis, diabetes, gastroparesis, chronic pain, hypertriglyceridemia... the list goes on. I need a break. I can't manage all of this. I need a break from myself. It's disheartening. And I feel like I am bringing everyone around me into the pit of despair along with me. That probably is what feels that worst. I talked to a therapist a little, and got nothing of value. The only thing I really left with was another prescription. So I filled it, and I took it. But this isn't a chemical imbalance. This is just my life right now. Failing. Even through all the whining and complaining I am doing now, I **KNOW** it could be worse. I know that. Is it possible to be happy with failing? To use reverse psychology on myself so that failing is normal, and something to accept and like. And then when I do succeed the few times it's happened, it's not a big deal.
Worth a shot I suppose and it's better then doing nothing. Maybe feeling "dark" can be a learning experience.